At this moment, the landlord of the Crown, a jovial-looking stout personage, with a white apron round his waist, issued from the house, bearing a large wooden bowl filled with ale, which he offered to Jack, who instantly rose to receive it. Anna watched her with curious eyes. ” “In the present case,” Drummond remarked, glancing across the room, “Cheveney wouldn’t permit it. . . " "I always detested Mrs. ” Annabel had been lying curled up on the lounge, the personification of graceful animal ease. She felt a storm of emotion surging up within her.
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