” Ennison laughed softly. “Ever yours, “ANNABEL. Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone. I will always think of you with fondness, no matter what. . All these experiences have taught me a great deal about life and realities.
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