“You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason. "The door!—the door!—death!" he added, as he tried the handle, "it is locked—and I am unarmed. ” “Alive,” Annabel moaned, her eyes large with terror. “You are afraid,” she said, “that the young man who thinks that he is my husband has upset me. The third item she took with a trembling hand by its waistbelt.
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