CHAPTER XV. I know now what it is to be an abandoned female. Somebody may be on the watch—perhaps, that old ginger-hackled Jew. "Something more than whisky did that. Taking off his stockings, he then drew up the basils as far as he was able, and tied the fragments of the broken chain to his legs, to prevent them from clanking, and impeding his future exertions. "Now come along, Jack. My name is Annabel, not Anna. He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. Opposite, his pupil stood with bowed head and clasped hands. ‘Monsieur, my wife intended not to anger you,’ he said in a tone of apology. She fled.
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