‘I do not know of whom you speak. He laughed to hide his uneasiness. If she returns to the house from which we took her, her companions will laugh at her and smother her with ridicule. 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. And Lady Trafford having been carried down stairs, and placed within it, the postboy drove off, at a rapid pace for Barnet.
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