Only I wish that it did not remind one so much of a second-hand clothes shop. She had paid her bill, and she had enough left in her purse to pay many such. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. Is it so, Annabel?” “I did not know,” she faltered, “anything about you.
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