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He pushed her to his bed, little more than a cot, and pulled off her clothes. That is why I came to London. Since morning he had become fanatical; the atoms of common sense no longer functioned in the accustomed groove. This foster child’s name was Mary Lucia Iovelli, and we have photographic documents of a woman who looks exactly like you, dear. She fought him at first, screaming at him, but he did not relent. ‘I went to see him because I thought he ought to know about you, having already been imposed upon by our friend Gosse. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life.
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