Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. It heralded you, promised you. Gerald began to ease forward, deciding just how he would accost her. The delay was only momentary. ‘But you know. I had no idea. ‘To find what?’ demanded Gerald. She felt she must get him talking upon some impersonal theme at any cost. Mr. " "In whose favour is it made?" he inquired, sternly. Believe me, Anna. She had once reconciled in her mind that she was happy as long as she had him.
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