Henry Clay, thirteen cents in Hong-Kong and two-bits in that dear old New York. Burn your palette and your easel. She began to exercise those lures which were bred in her bone—the bones of all women. “May I be allowed to say,” he declared, “that I came here with the same intention. ” She looked down on him thoughtfully, and he let his admiration of her free young poise show in his face. Remember ——” Annabel clutched her sister’s arm.
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