The smell that emanated from the opening was abominable. A large body of the constables of Westminster next made their appearance, the chief of whom entered the Lodge, where they were speedily joined by the civic authorities. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. The area in front of the jail was completely filled. If she had any idea at all, it was something she dimly recalled from her books: something celestially beautiful, with a happy ending.
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