You are the one person I can understand and feel—feel right with. Annabel ignored both the chair and the invitation. “And I have dragged you all over here for nothing,” she murmured. A black-garbed figure crept forward, noiselessly, towards Gosse’s back. Because she states her case in a tangle, drags it through swamps of nonsense, it doesn’t alter the fact that she is right. He fended these things off from him with the rump of his fourth piece of cake. Jonathan Wild's House in the Old Bailey.
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