Thames unfolded the drawing, smoothed out its creases, and beheld a portrait of himself. The sky beyond was a surreal color of pink that reminded her of the windows she had once been entranced by at the castle chapel, their leaden lines depicting old religious stories and sufferings. ‘The whole town is talking. I think not, Annabel. The silence grew unbearable, so she asked, \"What is your surname, John?\" \"My surname? You mean my last name?\" \"Yes. A hansom stopped a little way off. He went over her features one by one in his mind.
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