For a while he threatened her. “We settled long ago—we’re hard stuff. In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard. He sat down beside her and stroked her hair. They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. “Annabel!” He looked at her thoughtfully.
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