My name is Annabel, not Anna. “Who from?” She met his eye for a second and her heart failed her. Such pretty manners, she thought. “You are late,” she murmured. He then barred and double-locked the door, took out the key, (a precautionary measure which, with a grim smile, he said he never omitted,) thrust it into his vest, and motioning the couple to follow him, led the way to the inner room. We came on here at once. I wish very much that you had written before leaving Paris.
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