“In Paris our lives were far apart, and we had seldom the same friends. His red hair marked him, cut short into a round shape that had the texture of a Brillo pad. “You don’t propose, do you,” she said quietly, “that I should take this man for my husband?” “You can drive him away,” Annabel cried. . The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. There’s nothing a girl can do that isn’t sweated to the bone. " "Ay, marry," replied Wood, with a look that seemed to say that he did not think it required any surprising skill in the art of divination to predict the doom of the individual in question; but whatever opinion he might entertain, he contented himself with inquiring into the grounds of the conjuror's evil augury respecting the infant. I thought I’d see Paris, do the thing—like a toff.
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