He got up. It was there in the breast pocket, stiff and legal looking. "My name is Darrell," said the fugitive hastily. The house was full of aunts, uncles, and cousins meandering about, stuffed until their seams and zippers were bursting. You need have no apprehensions about him, Sir Rowland. His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance. " CHAPTER XIII.
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