“Won’t you have some more tea, Mr. In fact, Mr. “Annabel at last,” he shouted. After all, it was what she had been praying for—and Annabel could not have known her address. Why was she noting things like this? Capes seemed selfpossessed and elaborately genial and commonplace, but she knew him to be nervous by a little occasional clumsiness, by the faintest shadow of vulgarity in the urgency of his hospitality.
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