" "I'm not afraid, mother," said the little girl, smelling at the bouquet. ” Chapter XVIII ANNABEL AND “ALCIDE” Lady Ferringhall lifted her eyes to the newcomer, and the greeting in them was obviously meant for him alone. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. “Morning, Mom. And now— I suppose I should be considered too old. .
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