" "Who's lost?" demanded Ireton. "Did you write it?" "No. Presently, two carriages dashed down the hill, and drew up before it. His face was much handsomer than Gianfrancesco’s, his lips thinner, his brow much more noble and wise. Courtlaw found himself ushered without questions into Annabel’s long low drawing-room, fragrant with flowers and somewhat to his surprise, crowded with guests. .
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