I never met your sister in Paris, but I heard about her more than once. . '" "Let me see," cried Jack, snatching the paper, and eagerly perusing the advertisement. Youth finds it pleasant sometimes to be melancholy. “You are mine, Annabel, and nothing shall ever make me give you up. I cannot be intimate—’ stressing the word with a deep look ‘— with one I feel to be a stranger. There could not, he decided, possibly be two girls so much alike.
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