I never met your sister in Paris, but I heard about her more than once. I told him the truth. She dumped him because she claimed she didn’t want him to go any farther. She said you HAD some money. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. “He is Annabel’s husband,” she reminded him.
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