"I half suspect this is a highwayman," thought the Jew; "he's so ready with his cash. ” He leaned back in his chair as though wearied. “Who are you—Annabel Pellissier or her ghost?” Anna laughed. Don’t leave me. “Who is the tenant of these rooms?” he inquired. The confirmed drunkard's mouth at length sets itself peculiarly; it becomes the mark by which thoughtful men know him.
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