Then there was the French girl at Algiers.
Jack had kept me hanging on in Algiers a week longer than we meant to stay.

The pose of the head, the hands clasped behind it, a trick so irritatingly familiar to me--was that the French girl?
No, the lady I was struggling to identify was certainly English.

I'm sure you're asleep.
"A month elapsed before I had an opportunity of seeing the photograph again.

An idea had struck me which I meant to carry out.

This was to trace the photograph by means of the photographer.