The three clerks fought for the only window, and saw her whisked into a hansom. "All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. “Annabel;” he moaned. Across the blackboard the colored chalks flew like flights of variously tinted rockets as diagram after diagram flickered into being. “By-the-bye,” he said, presently, “your sister was married to old Ferringhall the other day, wasn’t she? I saw the notice in the papers. But one day he came to me. She drifted northward from the Strand, and came on some queer and dingy quarters. It became suddenly glaringly apparent to her that it was impossible to return fifteen pounds or any sum less than twenty pounds to Ramage—absolutely impossible.
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