Then he turned round and gazed thoughtfully at the particular spot in the fog where Courtlaw had disappeared. The next weekend arrived and she made her decision. Do you know, Annabel, that you are my wife. ‘Gabbling and muttering in a foreign tongue, that’s what I heard, sir,’ had declared the gap-toothed ancient, when he told them of the initial foray he had made, sneaking around the house in the dark. It was a brief solitude, however. To be confronted with the girl’s damned Frenchman of a husband was another matter altogether.
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