Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. "Do they treat you ill?" asked her son. Ashen blonde, a shade that would never excite the cynical commentary which men applied to certain types of blondes. I asked him—to take me away. Wood, in a taunting tone.
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