In this spy theory, however, he had no faith whatsoever. Never had she seemed to him so much like Anna. But the cases were not identical. There could not, he decided, possibly be two girls so much alike. An unwelcome idea came to him. Nab and Quilt to the door! Jack, you are my prisoner. Oh! that I should live to be father-in-law to a peer of France! What would my poor wife say to it, if she could come to life again? Oh, Thames!—my lord marquis, I mean—you have made me the happiest—the proudest of mankind. Martin came to the stage from his section, his own violin in hand.
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