A creeping numbness invaded her. The warm September sun fell strongly on this part of the grounds, uninterrupted by trees, its light bouncing off the glass in the mansion’s walls. She never had been much of a looker, but she had stopped worrying about such things long ago. Still, there certainly was something in the idea of a treaty. At last the panel swung back into the library. If you do not help me to read the riddle of yourself, Annabel, I think that very soon I shall be a candidate for the asylum.
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