He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough. ‘Mad as hatters!’ ‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly. ” “Not long ago,” she said, “you left me in anger, partly because of this exchange of identities between Annabel and myself. " "What a mistake!" "Yes. . . He could neither stifle nor deaden that. ’ ‘Fancy my old pa thinking you was a French spy.
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