" "Too proud, eh?" rejoined the prize-fighter. “Tell your sister she was right to shoot, quite right. " "What proof have you that I am?"—was the return bolt. He was bringing the sing-song girl to the hotel! The strange cortège presently vanished below the window-sill. I’m sorry. She leaned forward in her chair, as if petrified in fear by the scary story. “It is strange that we should have met Annabel,” she said. She saw a pole-chair; that would be this Mr. ’ ‘Merci,’ she sighed and, surrendering at last to his oft-proffered aid, allowed her head to droop onto his chest. “Can you spare me forty pounds?” she said.
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