The shops were lighting up into gigantic lanterns of color, the street lamps were glowing into existence, and she had lost her way. That it provided proof of the girl’s identity was one thing. “We were good friends in Paris, weren’t we? You made me all sorts of promises, we planned no end of nice things, and then—without a word to any one you disappeared. Sir John gave his order, deliberately stumbling now and then over a word, and anglicizing others.
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