They were ingenious disguises of gilt paper destructively gummed, it would seem, to Ann Veronicas’ best dancing-slippers. But, when the sound of the carriage-wheels died away, and he felt that she was actually gone, his resolution failed him, and he rang the bell violently. "Lady Trafford would not have thus condemned me!" cried Thames. For a moment he did not recognize Annabel. His little doll. Moving room to room it was.
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