Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. Perhaps Ferringhall has pensioned her off. Annabel thought, and thought again. Her sense followed the shoulders under his coat, down to where his flexible, sensitive-looking hand rested lightly upon the table. While she worked, Melusine worried over the problem of getting Jack home. Understand once and for all that that answer is final. "My mother,—my poor mother!" exclaimed Jack.
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