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" "Poor child!" muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; "the whole scene upon the river is passing before me. “You are absurd,” she declared. Annabel was in hiding all the time. Oh, Heavens; that I should have ever indulged a hope of happiness while that terrible man lives!" "Compose yourself, Joan," said Wood; "all will yet be well. “You are a funny, a very funny young lady,” he said, “but we waste time here. Cathy sighed. She went on from street to street, and all the glory of London had departed.

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