” “Then he—and Paris—lied,” Ennison answered. 'Whoso giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord;' that's my comfort. “But I am sorry,” she exclaimed. Courtlaw found himself ushered without questions into Annabel’s long low drawing-room, fragrant with flowers and somewhat to his surprise, crowded with guests. "You'd better surrender quietly, Jack," he cried; "you've no chance.
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