We middle-aged fools and we old fools can no longer dream. He stamped his last letter as Annabel entered. Lucy clapped a hand over Michelle’s mouth and struck her neck with a swift blow to the carotid artery. The old lady clearly read his state of mind, for the apparently irrepressible dimple peeped out. "God forgive me for using such a word!" he cried, in a troubled tone; "if I hadn't yielded to my wife's silly request, this wouldn't have happened!" CHAPTER VII.
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