“My dear,” she said, when she could get her breath, “you must come home at once. Annabel was conscious then of the slow anger which had been burning within her since the night of her visit to the “Unusual. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps. Gosse had moved forward, his pistol arm out straight, his aim true, the gun cocked. Those lives removed,—and Sir Rowland is completely in his power, the estates would be yours—HIS! if he were your husband. .
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