” He leaned back in his chair as though wearied. He's a hundred miles sou'-east of me. It'll be turning over to-morrow. There was, in fact, only one clear thought in his fevered brain: he had reached the hotel without falling down. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. The aunt laughed. “I want to speak to you.
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