The day was unseasonably humid and dark, a thick fog having descended over manicured lawns. CHAPTER XVI. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. You refuse me your confidence. How the deuce, though, am I going to account for her? People will be asking questions when they see her; and if I tell the truth, they'll start to snubbing her.
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