“It is hateful—diabolical!” he exclaimed. She forgot her vital hatred of the South Seas; she forgot that McClintock's would not differ a jot from the old island she had for ever left behind her; she forgot all the doctor's lessons and warnings. “Called myself Anna,” the girl repeated coolly. It was a habit she had taken from Remenham House, but could not wear because of the colour which must draw attention. If she kept on, would she make it out of the door? Then what? He could come after her before she could reach the secret passage. I know something about men.
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