“He is Annabel’s husband,” she reminded him. “Dear husband,” she murmured. “I came to London,” said Ann Veronica, “rather because of my own difficulty. Uttering a faint scream, she sank backwards, and would have fallen, if it had not been for the interposition of Blueskin, who, at that moment, staggered into the room with a candle in one hand, and the bottle in the other.
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