There was a time, long, long ago, when the tears would have rushed to my eyes unbidden at the bare mention of generosity like yours, Mr. Montague Hill?” Annabel put her hand suddenly to her throat and steadied herself with the back of a chair. Wood's astonishment and displeasure momentarily increased. She will sail, at early dawn to-morrow, for Rotterdam. “I suppose,” said her father, “I have read at least half the novels that have been at all successful during the last twenty years.
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