Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped. The carpet was a quiet drugget and not excessively worn, and the bed in the corner was covered by a white quilt. "What say you to carrying her off, Captain?" suggested Blueskin. She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers. “I won’t go home,” she said; “I won’t!” and she evaded the clutch of the fatherly policeman and tried to thrust herself past him in the direction of that big portal.
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