Then she slowly straightened, releasing him. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. “Perhaps that is only sleeping,” he said. ” “You have not told me yet,” Annabel said, “how it is that you have dared to personate me. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. “I—I didn’t love the man I was engaged to,” she said. On the envelope was written— Sydney Courtlaw, Esq. “Nor am I going to,” she answered, smiling. She changed her mind that day, as her mother Marina had predicted.
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