Her clock had stopped—stopped at the very hour on which she had quitted the Mint! She had not the heart to wind it up again. ” Annabel no longer attempted to conceal her emotion. Brendon looked across the room at her thoughtfully. The Plague raced through the city and the Palazzo, consuming it like fire. So he shut his eyes. Only one thing emerged with any reasonable clarity in her mind at once, and that was that unless she was saved from drowning by an unmarried man, in which case the ceremony is unavoidable, or totally destitute of under-clothing, and so driven to get a trousseau, in which hardship a trousseau would certainly be “ripping,” marriage was an experience to be strenuously evaded. 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.
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