She dismissed the idea of doing so. He haunted a state between hectic dreaming and mild delirium, and she found herself talking aloud to him. “Annabel at last,” he shouted. ‘You usually do,’ he said lightly. "I can't say I did," replied Wood, somewhat reluctantly; "what with the confusion incident to the storm, and the subsequent press of business, I put it off till it was too late. " "Nor any one else in his senses," rejoined Wood, with a laugh. You’re a good friend.
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