She dragged the broken bottle across her carotid artery, creating an inch-deep gash upon her throat. "Oh! nothing at all," answered Jack, sneeringly, "though this room's as much mine as yours, for that matter. ‘There’s no controlling you, is there?’ He held up his hands. 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. The eyes left him, searching beside the chair for her cane.
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