‘Good, good—and not before time,’ muttered Roding, glancing round again. “I had found her at last, and she shot me. Bowing to the stranger, the woollen-draper very politely requested to know his business. She uttered a little ejaculative note of joy and rushed to the bed. "Good-bye, young man; and good luck. ” “Not long ago,” she said, “you left me in anger, partly because of this exchange of identities between Annabel and myself.
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