He walked hastily to the side of the broad pavement and summoned a fiacre. ’ No Latin? And no guns or daggers, naturally. What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel. ” He saw her into the train at Waterloo, and stood, a tall, grave figure, with hat upraised, as the carriage moved forward slowly and hid him. She almost sprang to her feet. She cried out with the pain of it.
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