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From the threshold she looked her accuser steadily and coldly in the face. ‘And that object confirms me in the belief that it is not I who will shortly meet my maker. ’ ‘Uh-oh,’ came from her infuriating suitor and his eyes dropped to the weapon she was dragging from the holster under her petticoat. “You are mine, Annabel, and nothing shall ever make me give you up. gutenberg. \" Lucy replied. ” “Yes.
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