"Help!—murder!—thieves!" screamed Mrs. ‘—and I love your raven hair, and your bright blue eyes, and your very kissable lips—’ suiting the action to the words ‘—and I love the crazy way you speak English, and the way you curse at me. She had left for ever the cage, the galling leash: she was free. “Annabel! Why, what on earth have you been doing to yourself, child?” she exclaimed. Ruth did not reply, but stared past the doctor, her eyes misty. A broken laugh followed the action. From time to time she would come upon a line of singular beauty or a paragraph full of haunting music; and these would send her rushing on for something that never happened. "I'm afraid I must decline to tell you. He was disquieted.
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