"I used to cry myself to sleep, Hoddy, I was so forlorn and lonely. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. I am really in earnest. They WERE weird. He recognized the handwriting, and turned a shade paler. He seemed to have shrunken in his seat. “You silly fool,” he said. It’s no good hiding it any more. So I come suppliant. Then he rallied, smiling a little.
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