“Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. She tipped his mouth towards her own and kissed him. Annabel ignored both the chair and the invitation. Weeks hurled past, weeks that turned into months. Then a bit of colour flowed into his sunken white cheeks. "Oh, lud! what's that?" exclaimed a female voice, from an adjoining room. It made her hungry. This island was the one haven he had; he might be forced to remain here for several years—until the Hand had forgotten him.
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