The hurricane appeared to have raged in this quarter with tenfold fury. America, the land of rosy apples and snowstorms, beckoned, and she wanted to fly thitherward. "I likes to hear vot you says. ” Annabel looked at him curiously. She felt this was the sensible way out of this oddly sinister situation. " "You're strangely superstitious, Sir Rowland," said Jonathan, halting, and looking steadfastly at him. ” “Perhaps I don’t. The hurricane had now reached its climax.
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