That last year in Paris, when Annabel and she had lived in different worlds, had often been a nightmare to her. The policemen were closing in from the sides to intervene. "What proof have you of the truth of this story?" inquired Trenchard. “Go on!” “You know—in Paris they coupled my name with some one’s—an Englishman’s. "Lor' ha' mussy, Sir!—how you do talk," said the woman; "this is no robber, I'm sure.
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