“What do you mean, Annabel? You only knew Mr. His thoughts, indeed, were too painful for utterance, and so acute were his feelings, that, for some time, they quite overcame him. It is that, is it not?” “No,” he answered readily. You are all that I am or hope to be—the celestial atom God put into me at the beginning. "Who isn't it like?" he asked, endeavouring to gain possession of the drawing, which, af the sound of his footstep, she crushed between her fingers.
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