“I don’t know how to prove myself to you, John. If you do not help me to read the riddle of yourself, Annabel, I think that very soon I shall be a candidate for the asylum. That'll tune me up. After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes.
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