"What of that," rejoined Jonathan. She had remained patently unavailable to him. She was unusually pale, and her eyes were brilliant. "What the devil are you about! Will you allow yourself to be beaten by a couple of kids?" "Not if I can help it," returned Abraham, making a desperate effort to regain his feet. Annabel ignored both the chair and the invitation. At last she was roused. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. Wood became sensible that he was not alone.
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