There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. I don’t think I’ve got illusions, nor you. Hist!" cried he, as a scream was heard from without. It is foolish, she murmured to herself, foolish. Annabel was conscious then of the slow anger which had been burning within her since the night of her visit to the “Unusual. Indeed I must. I’ll take over here.
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