There it is. Paris was full, and it was by no means a retired spot which she had found. The third item she took with a trembling hand by its waistbelt. Beside me on Anna’s table was a pistol. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. Small wonder she had learned to be self-reliant.
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