You are all that I am or hope to be—the celestial atom God put into me at the beginning. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. He has been lodged in every round-house in the metropolis, and has broken out of them all, and boasts that no prison can hold him. But how close? She glanced about at the shrouded furnishings for possible cover. “You are a dear,” she exclaimed affectionately.
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