He was ill at ease, though he would not have confessed his disquietude even to himself. "Can't you speak?" "I don't choose," replied Thames, sturdily; "and your brutality shan't make me. “Let me get you some water, Annabel. ‘Mad as hatters!’ ‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly. I'll call for you after lunch.
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