“You can count upon me, Nigel,” she said. The lights rolled over, and were extinguished. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. You know you do, Annabel. With some difficulty he contrived to raise her to the window, and with still greater difficulty to squeeze her through it—her bulk being much greater than his own. “No thanks, Cathy.
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