Paris copies London. " "Arm yourself with that ruffian's weapons," replied Jack, "and let us search for her. Annabel! Annabel!” His voice became a shriek. ‘I am sure you will. But you must promise me not to go near that abandoned hussy at Willesden. You say you love me and want to marry, but those are strong, potent words, words meant to last a lifetime. Lucilla clearly adored her betrothed, anyone could see that. You seemed complete—without that. What of madame, his wife?’ ‘You know more of her than me,’ the girl said with a look of scorn. His name is carved upon a beam up stairs. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you.
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