For a moment he did not recognize Annabel. I took the money myself, and ought to know. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. " "Then I owe my life to her?" "Positively. " As he said this, he moved forward a few paces, when, finding his feet glued to the ground by some adhesive substance, he stooped to feel what it was, but instantly withdrew his hand, with an exclamation of horror. Lucy clutched the pencil in defeat. And, for a man who'll never see sixty again, he's in excellent preservation, I assure you. As if he read her thought, he spoke it aloud. . .
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