“I am afraid—I really think that one of us ought to go with you,” he said. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. He perceived clearly enough, that the chase was moving quickly; and he was also aware, from the increased rapidity with which the oars were urged, that every exertion was made on board to get out of the reach of her pursuers. The funeral, it has just been said, took place on that day. Spurling, and her now accepted suitor, resumed their seats.
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