“By Jove!” he exclaimed. “You’re. —Providence, I mean—HAS arranged it so that men will keep you, more or less. I heard John was talking about you again from Jenny McIntyre. Through an open door was a glimpse of the bathroom—a vision of luxury, out of which Annabel herself, in a wonderful dressing-gown and followed by a maid presently appeared. Spurlock advanced, the censer swung high. He threw her on the bed.
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