Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. Die game. " "Poh! poh! say no more about it," rejoined the man hastily. "Are you a poltroon, after all?" "That's it! I ought to have died that night!" "Or is there a taint of insanity in your family history? Alone and practically penniless like yourself! You weren't even stirred by gratitude. ‘Ain’t my place, I know that.
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