“The Annabel who lives here, who sings every night at the ‘Unusual’? They call her by your old name. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. A child—as innocent as a child! Nothing about life; bemused by the fairy stories you writers call novels! I don't know what you have done; I don't care. “I opened my eyes, and she was bending over my bedside. Annabel had been here then. You wore a blue dress with your hair unbound, and never had I seen a maid so glorious with eyes so blue or a smile so bright. " Spurlock turned his dull eyes and tried to focus hers.
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