There's the paragraph. It was at his side below the breast, hidden by the dark colour of his close-fitting jacket. The idea of Ruth as a talisman against misfortune—which he now recognized as a sick man's idea— faded as his appreciation of the absurd reasserted itself. “You are mine, Annabel, and nothing shall ever make me give you up. I never even burrowed down into the trunk. Out of these he selected a faded parchment and restored the rest to safety. “Really!” said Mr. ‘Certainly those are names of the most undistinguished, and I would scorn to have them. Take the one that struck him at this moment. When she awoke, she felt sick, her mouth still salty with blood. ’ He threw a fulminating glance at Gerald. “Did it seem like I was in pain to you?” She smirked. ’ ‘But he gives them to me. “You can’t imagine,” Sydney exclaimed, “that the people downstairs will be such drivelling asses as to believe piffle like that.
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