“I heard the other day that she’d been taken in by some cad of a fellow who was cutting a great dash in Paris, personating Meysey Hill, the great railway man. Annabel was in hiding all the time. She shut her lips hard, her jaw hardened, and she set herself to struggle with him. Wasn’t easy, I can tell you. It was a work of no slight danger, for every instant a wall, or fragment of a building, came crashing to the ground. “Who wouldn’t be for you?” The train began to move. Between Canton and Hartford two giants had risen, invisible but menacing— Fear and Doubt. He flung open the door and cast a quick glance round. ” “Won’t you postpone the attempt, then?” he said gallantly, “until I have done something to deserve your gratitude? You will not forget—seven-thirty, Café Maston, Boulevard des Italiennes. He had never liked to be hugged, but she wondered if his corporeal needs would be made apparent by human touch.
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