Then he turned round and gazed thoughtfully at the particular spot in the fog where Courtlaw had disappeared. There lay upon this stand a book bound in limp black leather—the Holy Bible. Charley Pevenill was our host. ” “A—marriage certificate!” Annabel gasped. “It is the same man, Annabel,” she said. And now—Dear! Dear! The dayspring from on high hath visited me. She would just have to show up and hope for the best. But he reckoned without his host.
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