‘Gone!’ he said. That would be him. She stood there with white set face and nervously clenched fingers. ’ ‘Will you indeed? Truly?’ His smile held so much tenderness, she was tempted to surrender at once. “It’s the stir of spring,” he said. ‘Pen and paper, do you have them?’ ‘Danged if I have,’ came the truculent response. Annabel shines like a star in the darkness, Rosamund queens it a rose, deep rose; But the lady I love is like sunshine in April weather, She gleams and gladdens, she warms—and goes. His voice now had lost its ironies. She breathed deeply. "Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone.
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