Mrs. You are not playing to-night, are you?” “Not to-night,” she answered. ’ Exasperated, Gerald glared at her. Perhaps an hour passed before she laid aside the book. What’s that?” They both stood listening. There's a letter for the head turnkey, Mr. 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. “You’re mad, Sebastianus.
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