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Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped. ‘You wish to die?’ ‘Not in the least. She had fled back to Florence quite intent on slitting the new bride’s throat. I sat within a few feet of him. Give me this picture. He had abandoned his oars, and the boat was drifting with the stream towards the enemy.
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