" "Poor child!" muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; "the whole scene upon the river is passing before me. ” Annabel rose slowly to her feet, walked to the door as though to see that it was shut, and came back with slow lagging footsteps. Seven hundred forty-two dollars and eighty-one cents, the sum total of her money in the world that she hid in a filigreed cigar box shelved behind her schoolbooks. “Please don’t,” she said. . He's down in Patagonia somewhere. The Widow and her Child II. '—'No fear o' that,' thought I. Something draws everybody.
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