Annabel shines like a star in the darkness, Rosamund queens it a rose, deep rose; But the lady I love is like sunshine in April weather, She gleams and gladdens, she warms—and goes. I must not let you go again. I wanted it badly. "He is gone!" cried Mrs. She held out her hand for it, but Gerald smiled. “Agreed,” he said, “certainly,” and drew a checkbook toward him. Sheppard.
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