And now—Dear! Dear! The dayspring from on high hath visited me. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. She tried to compose her thoughts, to think of the last six months, to steep herself in the calm beauty of the surroundings. I am fairly well hardened in iniquity—your iniquity, Annabel—but I decline to have a husband thrust upon me. "No, Sir, it's quite possible—more than possible. Who could guarantee a safer existence outside Florence? That Sebastian seemed to have a weird immunity to the Pestilence was a trait that went unquestioned, unanswered. Afterward, one afternoon, he hovered about her, and came and sat beside her and talked of beauty and the riddle of beauty for some time. She had lost her nerve, and there was no more freedom in London for her that night.
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