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. Earles himself stood upon the threshold of his sanctum, the prototype of the smart natty Jew, with black hair, waxed moustache, and a wired flower in his button-hole. ‘If you love me, you will say it, or else I will blow off your head. Michelle had begged her to do it. “There are some people,” he said at last, “who seem fated to carry on their shoulders the burdens of other people.
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