Wood. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. ” It took a good deal to surprise Anna, but it was all she could do to follow Mr. After all, he had the means of setting this tormenting doubt at rest. "He sails to-morrow morning in the very vessel by which I start," replied Jack.
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