” Annabel shrugged her shoulders. To-night they say he will be conscious. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. Couldn’t fit it inside, but the horse’s blanket lay over it, and, like I said, as long as no one rides him and don’t remove the blanket, I think it’ll stay hid.
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