"Well, you women are forgiving creatures, I must say," observed Jonathan, sarcastically. Instinct had forced her to create something out of rags to satisfy a mysterious craving. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. “She has nothing to be afraid of,” he continued. And because he knew it was a burden, there was no gaiety upon the doctor's face; neither was there speech on his tongue.
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