Good-bye, Anna!” Annabel sprang up. His last actions were futile. The cry was echoed by twenty different voices. Almost at the same moment the door opened and Brendon entered, followed by the doctor. Her brown curls were pulled tight in a severe chignon. He made some obvious comments on the wide view warming toward its autumnal blaze that spread itself in hill and valley, wood and village, below. Annabel ignored both the chair and the invitation. She felt her skills make a belated return. Only a few weeks ago there was a bloody battle on the bridge there between the soldiery and the local police. Stanley, standing up with a sudden geniality and rubbing his hands together. He did not like it, he said, with a significant look, to be reminded of either his books or his dinners after he had done with them.
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