Annabel seated herself in an easy chair and determined to wait for her sister’s return. She practiced swaddling on a doll, pretending to pat the head of her imaginary infant boy. No— no, it must never be. She was going to him soon and certainly, going to his strong, embracing arms. He passed his arm under that of the constable, and drew him aside. ‘Gérard, do not go,’ she cried, breathless. ‘What are you after this time, miss?’ asked Jack.
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