"No, Sir, it's quite possible—more than possible. Annabel, tell me that you did not wish me dead. I meant mischief. Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury. . His attitude toward her was purely intellectual, free of any sentimentality, utterly selfish. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. from many ships. . It shall never be said that I raised my arm willingly against a woman. A hollow feeling opened up inside her, and she felt her heartbeat quicken. Wood became sensible that he was not alone. She knew blood was rushing to his face and other places as well.
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