It was Annabel’s. Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book. She was about to rush to his side, when she saw his clenched hands rise and fall upon the sand repeatedly. Neither the manners, the looks, nor the attire of these gentlemen prepossessed Mrs. Too late, alas, to stop the disastrous marriage. Would you stand by me—and her?” “My dear Nigel!” she exclaimed. Fifty sent home. She felt smaller and more adventurous even than she had expected to feel.
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