‘Be quiet, man,’ snapped Hilary, watching the Frenchman go by with the lad after him. They walked in silence. Of course she had often heard sailors hammering out their ditties. Her face scarcely reflected his enthusiasm. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped. “Good-looking rascal she met at Worthing. I'll see.
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