He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. But he can't have his eyes always about him, or he'd have been with us this morning at the Mint, eh, Mr. Then he went back to his rooms and lit a cigar. As the time when his identity had to be proved approached, this rigour was, in a trifling degree, relaxed, and a few persons were occasionally admitted to the ward, but only in the presence of Austin.
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