” Annabel moistened her dry lips with a handkerchief steeped in eau de Cologne. He wondered if the young fool had any idea of what he had drawn in this tragic lottery called marriage. " "Wrong? What the devil could be wrong?" McClintock had demanded, irascibly. " "Why, surely you don't think your guests would steal them," observed Rachel, archly. Loose the wherry, and stand to your oars—quick—quick!" These commands were promptly obeyed. "I'll see him fettered myself.
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