“Of course, one lives differently in Paris, but then—Paris is Paris. Is all that folly done with—for ever?” Annabel shivered ever so slightly. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. “These are the playgrounds of life. Let me see my child, if he is really here?" "Behold him!" returned Trenchard, taking Thames (who had been a mute, but deeply-interested, witness of the scene) by the hand, and leading him towards her. "My mother is avenged. “Not a bit of it.
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