" With no little effort—for the right words had a way of tumbling back out of reach—he marshalled his phrases, and as he uttered them, closed his eyes to lessen the possibility of a break. "Mercy on us!" cried he, as a thrill of apprehension ran through his frame. I do not think that I have the Bohemian spirit at all. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. He roused curiosities.
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