Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. For the first time a definite doubt possessed him. But most of all, I wanted to love. She is no longer mine; she is yours. 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. “You see, I will take your arm. I have never loved you. She fluttered her eyelashes, and adopted the soulful tone that served her well at times.
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