But I shall lose my wager if I stay a moment longer—so here goes. There isn’t a husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn’t have blessed that pistol in your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight. A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home. " He laughed and pushed back his chair. "Pray, make no further mystery; but tell me all without reserve. In truth, she would quite like to have him rescue her. She could smell the sweet girl child he had buried in the garage in autumn, 1 even under the frozen ground.
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