A gaunt, powerful man: no feature of his face decided, and yet for all that it had the significance of a countenance hewn out of rock. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. “I don’t care what any one thinks,” said Ann Veronica. "He must be somewhere hereabouts," cried one of the horsemen, dismounting. He made his speech a little elaborately. “Come with me.
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