” “There was no need for such heroism,” Annabel said coldly. ” The truth prevailed. She could even think of what had happened. The present divinity of the cellar was a comely middle-aged dame, almost as stout, and quite as shrill-voiced, as the Billingsgate fish-wives above-mentioned, Mrs. "I don't know his name. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud.
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