" "Why, what'll you do?" demanded the turnkey. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. “The young women of Jane Austen’s time didn’t get into this sort of scrape! At least—one thinks so. 'But I don't desire to spoil sport,—not I.
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