She flew up from her stool and faced the door. Och! many a mug o' bubb have I drained wi' the landlord, Joe Hind. Then for a time she sat very still. “How could I, when your sister sings now at the ‘Unusual’ every night and the name ‘Alcide’ flaunts from every placard in London?” “The likeness between us,” she said, “before I began to disfigure myself with rouge and ill-dressed hair, was remarkable. He watched her, savoring her curious attention. The thing rankled in her mind night and day. “Annabel at last,” he shouted.
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