The bliss had lasted one hundred and forty years, far more than an entire mortal lifetime. Annabel was in hiding all the time. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. ‘Dare I suppose that to be of her making?’ Gerald flushed. "Miss Thornhill's a charming girl. She could stow away, go to a place where there were no people to eat and end her life. She wrapped a leg around him. Your history, your actions, nay, your very thoughts are better known to me than to your spiritual adviser.
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