After all, it was what she had been praying for—and Annabel could not have known her address. She was not afraid exactly, but there was that about her loneliness to-night she distrusted. “You are in a private room of St. "A thousand pounds," he observed, gloomily, "is a heavy price to pay for doubtful secrecy, when certain silence might be so cheaply procured. ” She nodded in the affirmative. He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories.
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