For every Eden, there will be a serpent; for every sheepfold, there will be a wolf. “How unkind!” she exclaimed. She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. ” Annabel moistened her dry lips with a handkerchief steeped in eau de Cologne. Ha! ha! What have I left but despair and madness? Promise me one thing, Mr. "Did you write it?" "No.
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