I don’t want to bother you, of course. " As he spoke, the door of the round-house was opened, and a stout man, with a lantern in his hand, presented himself at the threshold. The night was clear and moonlit, dazzling with even light blue shadows that shone into manicured lawns and pristine gardens. There was something about their greeting and the tone of Annabel’s exclamation which puzzled her. You know—I worship you. She has been a dear. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all.
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