Startled by this circumstance, he looked around, and perceived that the trap-door,—which has been mentioned as communicating with a secret staircase,—was open. Annabel was in hiding all the time. She was curious to know why he had boarded a dingy train instead of hailing a cab or his own private chauffeur like the others in expensive suits were doing. He was a philosopher. Already the warm sun was drawing from the pines their delicious odour. The lips were straight and pale, the chin aggressive, the nose indomitable.
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