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She drifted northward from the Strand, and came on some queer and dingy quarters. Nevertheless it was overwhelming. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. It was Annabel’s. She found presently she was out of the dock and confronted with the alternative of being bound over in one surety for the sum of forty pounds— whatever that might mean or a month’s imprisonment. "As I said before, I have little reliance upon professions of gratitude. She gave me an impression of a sort of patched quilt; little bits of patterned stuff coming up again and again. Lucy snatched it up and put it in her pack. But tell me," he added with much anxiety, "has nothing been heard of Thames since the night of my former escape?" "Nothing whatever," answered Winifred.

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