"And the Marchioness is your daughter," added Thames. ” A little sobbing cry from Annabel arrested Sir John’s attention. Then he turned round and gazed thoughtfully at the particular spot in the fog where Courtlaw had disappeared. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes bright. For what she lacked in appearance, Sheila compensated in gossip. “I imagine,” Sir John said, “that your sister would acquaint him with it. “I have not the least idea who he is.
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