Mrs. As the day wore on, the crowds diminished,—many who would not submit to the turnkey's demands were sent away ungratified,—and at five o'clock, only two strangers, Mr. A film of dust lay upon it; the ink marks were ancient. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago.
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