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“Mike, what’s going on?” She sat up, groggily rubbing her eyes. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. " The spinster's face actually became warm. ‘She’s gone. He talked with his manner gentle and kindly. Was he pleased?” “Calmly! He said—you won’t mind my telling you?” “Not a bit.
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