It was noon when the caravan reached the tower of the water-clock. ” She slipped on her cloak and stepped into the hansom with him. “You yourself have decided that—apart from the question of Annabel. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. ‘Me, I do not need the help of anyone.
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