"Not so;" answered Wild. “I don’t see why I should take it secondhand. They crossed the street, and entering the front door passed up the outside stone steps of the flat. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. Will you stand by and watch me?" The contents of the trunk only thickened the fog.
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