” He stated. . There isn’t a husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn’t have blessed that pistol in your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight. You’re a far cry from your usual gloomy self these days. Plote was sleeping or deaf. " "Devil!" muttered Jack, again grasping his pistol. ’ Abruptly, the niggling doubt that had been plaguing Lord Charvill came sweeping to the surface.
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