At last, he got into a lane, but had not proceeded far when he was again alarmed by the sound of a horse's tread. " Trenchard took up a pen. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. The boat's sure to run foul o' the bridge; and if she 'scapes stavin' above, she'll be swamped to a sartainty below. She bent down. “You must do more than think of it,” he urged. ‘Well she does,’ insisted Miss Froxfield impenitently, and turned to Gerald. It’s a lake among precipices, and there is a little inn where we can stay, and sit and eat our dinner at a pleasant table that looks upon the lake.
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