‘I am saying so,’ protested Gerald mildly. Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. It's all your fault, you shaking coward! and, but that I feel sure you'll swing for your carelessness, I'd throw you into the well, too. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. Perhaps she might never come back to that breakfast-room again. The next moment, a heavy plunge told that the fugitive had been consigned to the waves.
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