Annabel shines like a star in the darkness, Rosamund queens it a rose, deep rose; But the lady I love is like sunshine in April weather, She gleams and gladdens, she warms—and goes. ” “Altogether holy, Ann Veronica. But what did the occupant of the box care? The laugh was always with the dead: they were out of the muddle. ‘Yes, dear Nan, a flirtation.
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