” “Well,” she said, “has there not been some reason for this? The likeness to Annabel could scarcely have escaped remark. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. Holcroft, we may have been mistaken. . Walking to the station with him. There were mysterious sounds, all of them musical. Everywhere I went and rapped at a door I found behind it another dreadful dingy woman—another fallen queen, I suppose— dingier than the last, dirty, you know, in grain.
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