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. The sunshine was brilliant, the air mild. "Can't you take me with you?" urged the voice; "I'll make it well worth your while. “—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. “I am a fool,” he said. ‘There is no question of a dispute.
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