It was Annabel’s. It was hard to resist. "Where is it?" "Are you the mother of this child?" inquired the person who had first spoken, addressing Mrs. Young and old were dressed in their gayest apparel; and it was evident from the smiles that lighted up every countenance, from the roguish looks of the younger swains, and the demure expression of several pretty rustic maidens, that a ceremony, which never fails to interest all classes,—a wedding,—was about to take place. The streets were deserted as they drove past familiar sites. She prevaricated. He did not so much cut into this conversation as loom over it, for he was a tall, if rather studiously stooping, man. ‘So Leonardo has taught me.
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