" The girl fished into the bottle for an olive. Then Gosse spoke again, answering the question in her mind. He was plainly attired in a riding-dress and boots of the period, and wore a hanger by his side. You’re mine. He bore it as long as he could, watching all the time with fascinated eyes Annabel moving gracefully about amongst her guests, always gay, with a smile and a whisper for nearly everybody. It would be the culmination of her plan. That dress is thirty years old, if a day. "Miss Enschede—such an odd name!—are you French?" "Oh, no. He hated himself a little for it.
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