“You heard no pistol-shot?” “None. "I am very happy to be of service to you. I ought never to have thought of it. Your sister! Great God, how like she is to what you were!” Annabel looked around her nervously. Supposing that was it; at least, a solution to part of this amazing riddle? Supposing her father had made her assist him in the care of the derelicts solely to fill her with loathing and abhorrence for mankind? "Didn't you despise the men your father brought home—the beachcombers?" "No. Mr.
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