. “I must live, you know. ” Annabel had been lying curled up on the lounge, the personification of graceful animal ease. On coming to himself, he found he had been wrapped in a blanket and put to bed with a couple of hot bricks to his feet. “Stop this—this humbugging,” he explained. As he passed along the main thoroughfare, he heard his own name pronounced, and found that it was a hawker, crying a penny history of his escapes. "But, I own, I think it is like. I came to London to look for you, and somehow the figure I saw in my dreams had got mixed up with you. It was horrible, but she must do it.
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