‘But a spy I am not. He carries with him something that will mark him anywhere—the girl. ‘Yes, for there were too many females for the vicomte to make me a dowry. "Take it," cried Wood, holding the infant towards her; "take it, and fly. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. When next he asked for her, some twelve hours later, he was told that Mademoiselle had left. He would go there. I MUST pay off that forty pounds.
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