She donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set. “I have loved you,” he was saying, “ever since you sat on that gate and talked. " "No! I have run away from my father. ” Annabel’s hand stole into his. "No, I won't hear you, murderer," rejoined Wood.
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