" So saying, he closed the lantern. I can’t rest or work or settle down to anything while things are like this between you and me. And by degrees, perhaps, that maiden distrust of yours that makes you shrink from my kisses, will vanish. All that he had sown that afternoon with such infinite care was as nothing compared to this seed, cast without forethought. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. “I will send you a copy,” Mr. But he wrote on.
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