Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. " "And so this is my reward for having made you the tip-top cracksman you are," muttered Blueskin;—"to be turned off at a moment's notice, because I silenced a noisy woman. She was finally dead, going to Hell. I’ve been smoking cigarettes in the preparation-room and thinking this out. Under his arm he carried a thick, knotted crab-stick. Upon this grateful animal she lavished that affection which was subtly repelled by its lawful object. CHAPTER V.
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