That last year in Paris, when Annabel and she had lived in different worlds, had often been a nightmare to her. There was the same airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin. E. Running his hand carefully over it in search of the lock, he perceived to his dismay that it was fastened on the other side. He thought of her and himself, and no longer in that vein of incidental adventure in which he had begun.
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