“Come,” he said, “you can’t be meaning to bury yourself. "Do you think I'm afeard of a beggarly thief-taker and his myrmidons? Not I. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. There was a hint of tears in her voice. Confidence in himself would strengthen him. I have not found the secret way into the house, for instance. " "Oh! name it. But that's an infirmity shared by a great many sounder heads than mine.
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