Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. She gurgled. I put my foot down like—like adamant. “Who tied this scarf here?” he asked, looking up. Their conversation was conducted in the flash language, and, though unintelligible to Wood, was easily comprehended by this companion, who learnt, to her dismay, that the wounded man had received his hurt from her son, whose courage and dexterity formed the present subject of their discourse. “It’s a nice holiday.
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