I see. They walked back to 118 hand in hand. “Listen, Annabel,” he said hoarsely. Her desires were not for riches. The next moment his grasp relaxed, and he sank to rise no more. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. She made a curious movement toward her niece, then suddenly, convulsively, she dabbed down something lumpy on the table and turned to follow her brother.
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