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He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. Drawing a pistol, and unclosing his lantern with the quickness of thought, he then burst through an open trap-door into a small loft. Never was heard such a bawling as these unfortunate wights kept up. Leastways, not on your own. He had only to recall this fact (which he did in each crisis) to erect a barrier she could not go around or over.
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