CHAPTER IX. Martin's Le Grand. “Why not? They tell me that London is impossible till after ten, and I want my first impressions to be favourable. Several men and women were piled there like wood, dead, horribly gored. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. Everybody talking of you. She had done forever with the Age of Chivalry, and her own base adaptations of its traditions to the compromising life. It is a plain case of alcoholic stupor.
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