Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. . ‘Nothing would do for her but to come here,’ grumbled Hilary, wiping his heated brow with a pocket handkerchief dragged from his immaculate white uniform breeches. Give me my pistol and my dagger. I have read that authors are very selfish and self-centred. “What have you done to yourself?” he muttered. 2. “I feel shabby and disgraced.
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