"What's that you're taking to Sir Rowland Trenchard's?" "Only a box, Sir," answered Sheppard, emptying the glass. “You must remember,” she said, “that you yourself are responsible for your altered looks. " "Nor any one else in his senses," rejoined Wood, with a laugh. It really isn’t so easy to go as it seems. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure.
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