He was tender with her as he had not been in years. She hit the villain with it. Stanley. “You need not be alarmed,” he said. Mischief bubbled up in her. After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone. I have a weapon—a knife—and if you attempt to open the door, will plunge it to my heart. We aren’t worth it. “Annabel at last,” he shouted.
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