CHAPTER XIII. " "Make good your assertions," cried Trenchard, furiously, "or——" "To the proof," interrupted the stranger, calmly. Will you marry me?” Anna looked at him in blank amazement. The next moment his grasp relaxed, and he sank to rise no more. He's a Welshman, and I wouldn't for a trifle that any accident befel him. The old man Pottiswick, still grumbling, much to Melusine’s disgust, had gone on his errand to his daughter’s house some two miles distant.
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