” She turned and fitted the latchkey into the door. Unwillingly he drew a little nearer, and became one of the group of loiterers about the entrance. There!" Out of the dark unruffled sapphire of the lagoon came vertical flashes of burning silver, singly and in groups. Like carpenter, like chips. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure.
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