She found an old drunk wandering the streets. Sheppard. He hated travelling second-class with her—indeed, he never did—but he also disliked travelling in the same train when his daughter was in an inferior class, because of the look of the thing. Through an open door was a glimpse of the bathroom—a vision of luxury, out of which Annabel herself, in a wonderful dressing-gown and followed by a maid presently appeared. It was just such a bedroom as she would have chosen for herself. Marvel, who proceeded to the cart, and took his seat upon the coffin.
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