There is no further hope. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. "Yes, now," rejoined the infuriated dame; "perhaps, I may never have another opportunity. ” Chapter XXVI ANNABEL IS WARNED “You!” David Courtlaw crossed the floor of the dingy little sitting-room with outstretched hands. One trouble, however, shot its slanting bolts athwart the shining warmth of that opening day and marred its perfection, and that was the thought of her father.
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