“You were married to him!” “It could not be legal,” Annabel moaned. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. At the back of the house, on a bank, rose an old-fashioned terrace-garden, full of apple-trees and other fruittrees in blossom, and lively with the delicious verdure of early spring. “How dare you!” They were both astonished at the other’s strength. But do not awaken my apprehension, unless you have good cause for so doing.
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