‘What?’ Roding snapped, coming quickly to tower above the window seat. 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. She saw marks in the dirt where he had been pacing. Cathy Beck was outraged. ‘Don’t dare call her that to my face.
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