“You are mine, Annabel, and nothing shall ever make me give you up. "Take him home, Saunders," said Sir Rowland, resigning his faulty steed to the attendant's care, "I shall not require you further. “I know that our social order is dreadful enough,” he said, “and sacrifices all that is best and most beautiful in life. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice.
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