For you say that you swim. “Go on!” “People talked to you in Paris about us,” she continued, “about Anna the virtuous and Annabel the rake. But I can easily bring in a sing-song girl to play for you. Her figure was perfect,—tall, graceful, rounded,—and, then, she had deep liquid blue eyes, that rivalled the stars in lustre. We were to ransom you, then we would fake your death, play as if the kidnappers had executed you.
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