“It was my sister Anna. Gerald, I mean, not Madame Valade. She was taken dreadfully ill on the road, with spasms and short breath, and swoonings,—worse than ever she was before. “Don’t you understand? It is I whom you cared for in Paris, not Anna. ” Chapter XXVI ANNABEL IS WARNED “You!” David Courtlaw crossed the floor of the dingy little sitting-room with outstretched hands.
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