” Annabel clutched her sister’s hands. ‘You’re either mad, or in love. " "She is a matchless creature!" exclaimed the young man. “What on earth did you expect me to do, then?” he asked. Would to God I had. The more haste, the worse speed—better the feet slip than the tongue. “Come this way,” he said. Even the most sullen and withdrawn were sensitive to the penetrating nastiness of the fog.
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