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The sun was setting in spectacular multicolored streams beyond Whitefield Park. CHAPTER XXI. I am suspected of having shot the man. I tell you I’m Meysey Hill, the railway man. As the woollendraper's back was towards him, he did not perceive him, but continued his passionate addresses. Annabel laughed a little uneasily. The spinster saw herself growing warm again in the morning sunshine of youth —a flaring ember before the hearth grew cold. There was a second co-respondent. Fortescue raised his eyebrows and assumed a light-comedy expression. The window was shortly after opened, and a rope ladder, with a lighted horn lantern attached to it, let down. ” In the car, John was wound up. Deep verandas ran around the bungalows, with bamboo drops which were always down in the daytime, fending off the treacherous sunshine.

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