Manning,” she said, “I warned you not to idealize me. Manned by a couple of watermen, who rowed with great swiftness, this wherry dashed through the current in the track of the fugitive, of whom it was evidently in pursuit, and upon whom it perceptibly gained. My heart cannot take it. But what the deuce! He was human; he was a machine only when on the hunt. I have taken bullets and lived, and even a silver one wouldn’t do much. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life.
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