All through that brief but measureless space of time during which wonder kept him silent, as fear did her, she cowered there, a limp helpless object. Silence! Then Anna clutched her companion’s arm. He wondered if the young fool had any idea of what he had drawn in this tragic lottery called marriage. CHAPTER XI. Barleycorn had sent to the mat for the count of nine: unless the young fool's daddy had a bundle of coin. Glad to get back, I’m sure,” he said briskly.
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