“I too am asked. "You came hither under my protection, and you shall depart freely,—nay, more, you shall have an hour's grace. How was I to know what would happen? He always said if he couldn’t get you a dowry, you could take the veil. He hung precariously on the ragged edge, but he hung there. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. " "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard.
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