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. To disillusion her, forthwith. ‘Doesn’t she, Gerald?’ Gerald held up his hands. It could not go on much longer, her luck. But I found it no laughing matter, I can assure you.
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