’ ‘As if you could stop her. Ask your own conscience. I’m taking no chances. ” She controlled a sob. “How could I, when your sister sings now at the ‘Unusual’ every night and the name ‘Alcide’ flaunts from every placard in London?” “The likeness between us,” she said, “before I began to disfigure myself with rouge and ill-dressed hair, was remarkable. Sir John looked about him, and somehow the laugh died away.
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