" At the door of this tavern, which was situated on the left of the street, not more than a hundred yards distant from the church, the bell of which began to toll as soon as the procession came in sight, the cart drew up, and the whole cavalcade halted. For a moment he did not recognize Annabel. Well, let's beat it to the hotel. " "Do so," replied Kneebone; "but remember the door is locked. She was the first to recover herself. " "You flatter me," smiled Sir James. Paris looms behind—a tragedy of strange recollections—here she emerges Phœnix-like, subtly developed, a flawless woman, beautiful, self-reliant, witty, a woman with the strange gift of making all others beside her seem plain or vulgar.
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