Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. It was better even than the hymn-singing. But you had better know the truth to start with. Instead, he was bowing to her greataunt. A smile trembled at the corners of her mouth as she recalled Gerald’s ridiculous upbraiding of his own reflection in the mirror. Several men and women were piled there like wood, dead, horribly gored.
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