The man, who was just able to move, pointed towards Giltspur-street. ” “Not long ago,” she said, “you left me in anger, partly because of this exchange of identities between Annabel and myself. His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life. From his wallet he brought forth a yellow letter. And here he was, but a hundred yards away, this wastrel who trailed his genius through the mud.
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