9. Even now, during the recurring doubts of the future, the thought of the island was repellent. ‘This is not love, Marthe. That Capes should love her seemed beyond the compass of her imagination. "It seems like six long months to me. ” “Oh, you are strong and brave,” Annabel murmured. I want you to be my lover. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. “I know. .
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