Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. “I must explain to her. I often think of those delightful evenings in Paris. ” “Annabel is a prophetess,” he declared.
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