"You're inquisitive, young gentleman," replied Jackson, coldly. ” “You have nothing to tell me?” “Nothing!” So Annabel departed with the slightest of farewells, wearing a thick travelling veil, and sitting far back in the corner of a closed carriage. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. And her kind of love forgives everything and anything but infidelity.
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