This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house. You must have figured that out by now. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. “An annuity—a sum of money paid to you yearly or quarterly through my solicitors, and which you can consider as a gift from your sister. Are you sure what it is you want of me?” “I want you. ” Mike said as he opened the door. CHAPTER IX.
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