" "Perhaps, I wasn't," returned Thames, gloomily, as the remembrance of Jonathan Wild's foul insinuation crossed him. He dashed against the screen door before she could catch him and made the veranda. She did not open the Bible but laid it on the edge of the bed, knelt and rested her forehead upon the worn leather cover. After all, it was what she had been praying for—and Annabel could not have known her address. He could imagine it even if he could not feel it. He's settling an account in the house. He embraced her like her father once had.
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