” Annabel shrugged her shoulders. I thought that Hill was dead, but I was frightened, and I wanted to get away from Paris. “Tell me,” she insisted, “why you look like that. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. This done, he let himself carefully down by it, and having only a few feet to drop, alighted in safety.
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