“Listen, Annabel,” he said hoarsely. He seemed happy with her, finding her proper and seemly. Spurling had retired for the night. I'm used to insult as I am to misfortune, and am grown callous to both; but I'm not used to compassion, and know not how to take it. I won’t tolerate any foreign tongue in this house, least of all that confounded French. From the first I could see that neither believed my story. ‘Lover’s tiff indeed.
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