Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. " "Don't be angry with me, Sir," cried the widow, sobbing bitterly, "pray don't. He was nearly wincing. ” “Oh, well!” he said, a little doubtfully, “it’s just a phase,” and bent down and rested his hand on her shoulder for a moment, with his heart beating and his nerves a-quiver. Do you know, Annabel, that you are my wife.
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