" "I expect no commiseration," returned Mrs. . . Probably hadn't. “Annabel! God in Heaven, it is Annabel!” She did not speak. I have no right to love you. The drawers at the moment were too busy to attend to her, and she would have seized the opportunity of examining, unperceived, the assemblage within, through a little curtained window that overlooked the adjoining chamber, if an impediment had not existed in the shape of Baptist Kettleby, whose portly person entirely obscured the view. The Palazzo was unlike anything she had ever known.
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