” “Well,” she said, “has there not been some reason for this? The likeness to Annabel could scarcely have escaped remark. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. I must say what I have to say!” “But not now—not here. It was Annabel who caught at the paper. ” He consumed Irish stew for some moments. The key's in the lock, on the inner side.
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