As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation. " "What say you, Sir?" said the Amazon, with an engaging leer at the stranger. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. To be with you is the best moral tonic I know. That night she found a ship bound to sail for the heathen nation called America. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure.
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