Capes sat down in the armchair beside her. Wild on his guard against an assassin. The spinster saw herself growing warm again in the morning sunshine of youth —a flaring ember before the hearth grew cold. When he awoke it was late in the day, and raining heavily. E. “Annabel,” she said slowly, “if I fight this thing out myself, can I trust you that it will not be a vain sacrifice? After what you have said it is useless for us to play with words. And, stretching out his hand, he lifted the dark object from the flood. She could not look at him through an interval that seemed to her a vast gulf of time. He returned the locket without comment. Spurlock was invariably at the high desk in the early morning, poring over ledgers, and giving the beach and the stores an occasional glance.
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