Who is she, I say?” “My sister!” Annabel faltered. F. There was a pause, while the steel grey eyes sliced at her. Jack's complexion was that of a gipsy; Darrell's as fresh and bright as a rose. "The shoulder-clappers!" added a lady, who, in her anxiety to join the party, had unintentionally substituted her husband's nether habiliments for her own petticoats. "Shall ve go back to de other room?" asked the Jew. "The Chevalier shall hear of this," whispered the woollen-draper.
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