Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. "During the whole of that time I have been a close prisoner in Newgate, whence I have only just escaped. A victim of one of those mental typhoons that scatter irretrievably the barriers of instinct and breeding; and he had gone on the rocks all in a moment. I can imagine nothing more pleasant in life than to help you, because I know it would pay to help you.
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