“I always get off here and lean over that rail for a bit. “Annabel!” He looked at her thoughtfully. And at length her penultimate day in Morningside Park dawned for her. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. It was bad luck to go to Canongate. With a gesture which was without any kind of emotional expression, the manager indicated the silent crumpled figure on the floor and gave the room number.
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