Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. "Now, give me the woollen cloth to tie round my fetters," whispered Sheppard. There was a lapse of time, an interval of blackness; then he found his hand in hers and she was leading him at a run up the side of the mountain. You really ought not to stay here and talk to us.
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