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"Who's there?—Pshaw! it's only the wind. “Much as I hate rows, I’ve either got to make a stand or give in altogether. She was unusually soft and gentle in her manner to him. “Don’t!” she begged. Just let him down easy, Lucy. He gave an order, the proa was floated and the sail run up. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered.
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