He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. I may tell him, at any rate, that you will see him?” “I shall like to see him,” Anna answered. There was a tearing sound as the canvas gave way, and the precious portrait ripped apart as the top of the Frenchman’s head came through it. I suspect he has been at work upon those he has on. " "Not for worlds!" exclaimed both ladies together.
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