" CHAPTER XI. ’ He smiled down at her. ’ It’s a duplicate of the French one. ” A little sobbing cry from Annabel arrested Sir John’s attention. ‘Tchah! So you’re the whelp’s girl, are you? Suppose you’ve nothing but that villainous French in your tongue. " "I'm sorry. It was late before Jonathan ventured to his own house, where he remained up all night, and kept his janizaries and other assistants well armed.
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