’ Then she frowned. Sheppard. ‘No need to upset yourself. He flung himself backwards, hit the dais and fell heavily before the altar, losing his low-crowned beaver. ‘You are too shrewd for me, ma’am. “You are mine, Annabel, and nothing shall ever make me give you up. Gods! what it must be to pour out strong, splendid verse—mighty lines! mighty lines! If I do, Ann Veronica, it will be you. Too many.
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