And then you go—and half throttle me. “Sir John!” Annabel gasped. But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered. You know I call that positively wicked. By this time, the churchyard was crowded with spectators, some of whom dispersed in different directions in quest of the other robber. Chairs were overturned. The signs of tears had all gone, but some subtle change seemed to have stolen into her face.
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