A tarnish of constraint that had recently spread over her intercourse with Capes vanished again. Don't be afraid. Anna passed serenely out. He is coming here to tea. You are your nephew's executioner, or he is yours. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered.
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