Below the window he saw two coolies carrying a coffin, which presently they callously dumped into a yawning pit. Was this the result of some strange experiment? It was the person of Annabel Pellissier—the soul of a very different order of being. One with the appearance of a bald little gnome yawned agonizingly. She had no idea what she should do. "Married!—no—no," replied the woollen-draper. The Storm VII.
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