Wood scarcely knew where he was. ‘So now we come to it. Should be home soon. “I do hope I have been able to make you understand how I feel, that you don’t consider me a hopeless prig. My very sentences stumble and give way. She heard him crash against it, and turned the key in the lock. “You don’t propose, do you,” she said quietly, “that I should take this man for my husband?” “You can drive him away,” Annabel cried. It had ceased now, but as he closed in on the area, a faint muttering came to his ears. Below was an uninspiring street, a thoroughfare of boarding-houses and apartments. Sir Rowland laid his hand upon his sword. This morning he heard voices—McClintock's and the Wastrel's.
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