‘I’ll get the key,’ said Roding, turning abruptly. She kept her face downcast. The man lingered. He stood a little anxious and fussy, bothered by the responsibility of her, entirely careless of what her life was or was likely to be, ignoring her thoughts and feelings, ignorant of every fact of importance in her life, explaining everything he could not understand in her as nonsense and perversity, concerned only with a terror of bothers and undesirable situations. Annabel, I cannot believe it. The prisoner was then thrust in by Quilt. Miss Charvill. The air was pungent and leaden. This time there wasn't any doubt. That for you!" And she snapped her fingers in his face.
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