” “You have not told me yet,” Annabel said, “how it is that you have dared to personate me. The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket. We felt like thieves. ‘She is constantly thinking of you,’ I said. Do you promise to do this?" "Solemnly," rejoined the carpenter. The door to the room in question was closed. Lucy collapsed to the floor in a sob. He was perhaps forty-five years of age.
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