"Well, you women are forgiving creatures, I must say," observed Jonathan, sarcastically. “Where is my beautiful wife?” He bellowed from the downstairs. The effort of self-repression cost him a sob. He rambled in an unfortunate monotone, the result of his innate fear of public speaking. Hollo rumbled in his throat. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. It’s the public entrance. ” “Yes.
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