A young woman with a white badge on her arm stood and counted the sections as they entered their vans. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. Hoped you'd not be retaken. Her eyes were lit with mirth, the corners of her mouth quivered. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. He went on.
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