” “You can’t be killed?” He asked. “So that’s the way it is. He depended upon her, for his medicine, for his drink, for the little amusement it was now permissible to give him. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. The figure of the girl upon it in plain black dress, standing with her hands behind her, was an undeniable and astonishing likeness of herself. To my loving husband Rodney, who is truly a dream come true.
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