Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. “You don’t propose, do you,” she said quietly, “that I should take this man for my husband?” “You can drive him away,” Annabel cried. "When is he to suffer?" she demanded, fixing her large black eyes, which burnt with an insane gleam, upon him. Montague Hill. Detention would mean coming home late, which spelled distraction and trouble on the night of a kill.
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