’ ‘So I heard. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. After all, where prayer fails, a pistol is bound to succeed. Annabel, I cannot believe it. ‘Did you see the man?’ Gerald asked. (What was the name he had given her that day?) He was walking beside the chair upon which appeared to be a bundle of colours. “Do you think he’s still around?” She paused thoughtfully.
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