The salt air was fresher than the stale air in the manor. "Something worse, I fear," Wood replied. I’ve got to stay at home and remain in a state of suspended animation. Like a petulant child he snapped. “The plain common-sense of the case,” he said, “is that we can’t possibly be lovers in the ordinary sense. Not for me. The cloth nearly touches the floor. There isn’t a husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn’t have blessed that pistol in your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight.
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