How I wish I might meet this delightful mystery lady of yours. " "For procuring my imprisonment?" "For saving your life. Wood, delighted at the idea. She fell into a deep delirium, whispering hoarsely to her dead mother, cursing God in Heaven, cursing her doctor, cursing herself as apparitions of devils and demons pulled at her with yellow ochre hands. What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel.
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