Part 7 That was two days before Christmas Eve. Does it?” “I think it does. He—In fact, he—he locked me in my room. " Thames tried to answer her, but his voice failed him. After all, it was what she had been praying for—and Annabel could not have known her address. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. ‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound. Most of you Americans pattern all Chinese upon those who fill a little corner in New York.
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