“Your brother has gone?” she asked Sydney, between the courses. Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. ‘Never trust a gun in female hands,’ grumbled Hilary, dropping the nun’s habit and backing to join his friend. Oh, Heavens; that I should have ever indulged a hope of happiness while that terrible man lives!" "Compose yourself, Joan," said Wood; "all will yet be well.
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