Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. "Leave me to my fate," rejoined Jack. “Lucy, you. "Saved!" "Ay, ay, it's all bob, my covey! You're safe enough, that's certain!" responded the Minters, baying, yelping, leaping, and howling around him like a pack of hounds when the huntsman is beating cover; "but, where are the lurchers?" "Who?" asked Wood.
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