‘Espéce de diable,’ she screamed. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped. But the free arm of the stranger hit him a flail-like blow on the chest and sent him sprawling into the yielding sand. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent.
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