In all these weeks she had not once knelt to pray. It looked very patient, she thought, and a little self-satisfied. . “My dear boy,” she exclaimed. Her eyelids fluttered with recognition, and she cried out softly. Annabel shines like a star in the darkness, Rosamund queens it a rose, deep rose; But the lady I love is like sunshine in April weather, She gleams and gladdens, she warms—and goes.
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