On the floor was a handkerchief, a little morsel of lace. While he thus vented his rage, the door again opened, and Quilt Arnold rushed into the room, bleeding, and half-dressed. He took her hand in his, raising it closer, and gently touched the maltreated skin. Meantime, every preparation had been made outside for his departure. "The worst house in the neighbourhood—the constant haunt of reprobates and thieves," groaned Wood. . Annabel watched her with wide-open, terrified eyes.
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