Don’t touch the handle, Annabel! Curse the thing, you’ve jammed it now. A loud buzz of curiosity circulated among the domestics; some of whom— especially the females—leaned forward to obtain a peep at the culprit. “My dear,” she began, with an affectionate hand on Ann Veronica’s shoulder, “I do SO wish you would realize how it grieves your father. I want to be with you. ‘Do not beg my pardon. ” “I know. Girls screamed in chorus. CHAPTER VII The astonishing collapse of Spurlock created a tableau of short duration. There lay upon this stand a book bound in limp black leather—the Holy Bible. There was no one to be seen.
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