She stuffed her violin in its case and rushed into the hallway towards John, who stood outside of 118 with his arms crossed. "I thought you were asleep. “You are mine, Annabel, and nothing shall ever make me give you up. She came along with the fluttering assurance of some tall ship. ‘No, I don’t see much future in pursuing her down this passage. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror.
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