"At present under the care of his preserver—one Owen Wood, a carpenter, by whom he was brought up. “Don’t fence with me,” Anna cried fiercely. People were not slaves to their gods as they are now, oppressed and unhappy, chained to their mortality and suffering so that they may one day enter an imaginary Heaven. That last year in Paris, when Annabel and she had lived in different worlds, had often been a nightmare to her. ‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness.
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