One night, she drew close to him in bed, trying to warm herself by embracing his back. There isn’t a husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn’t have blessed that pistol in your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight. “You will not give Sir John any cause for jealousy? You will have no secrets from him except—concerning those things which are past?” “Anna, I swear it!” her sister sobbed. . A shaft of searing heat plunged downward. And because he knew it was a burden, there was no gaiety upon the doctor's face; neither was there speech on his tongue.
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