Through an open door was a glimpse of the bathroom—a vision of luxury, out of which Annabel herself, in a wonderful dressing-gown and followed by a maid presently appeared. "Rowland," she rejoined, "you strive in vain to terrify me into compliance with your wishes. "I don't think that's likely. It was a port of call, since fortnightly a British mail-boat dropped her mudhook in the bay.
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