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We may meet—who can tell? But I will not be fettered, even though you would make the chains of roses. ‘Difficult, I grant you. In the meanwhile, as he talked, he scrutinized her face, ran his eyes over her careless, gracious poise, wondered hard about her. “The horse’s knees are broken, and I am not sure that the man is sober. Miss Annabel is her sister. Whatever you need to do, it is your business. What had shifted his casual interest was the visible prospect of a party of three who were coming down the packet gangplank. Her eyes were wide and bright.

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