. Lucy looked at her with a small measure of pity. “Annabel;” he moaned. Mischief bubbled up in her. “Not a bit of it,” he said; “it’s only a score in a game. She helped Jack to sit down, and dragged the jacket off him, lifting his shirt to expose the gash that had sliced across his side. “John, don’t!” she cried. Bring the light this way—quick! I cannot decipher the signature. "I understand," she said. ” She said warmly.
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