Never again would he repeat that kiss; but at night when they separated, he would touch her forehead with his lips, and sometimes he would hold her hand in his and pat it. ‘And you, my girl, if you’d been born at all, would have been just what you think you are. “Is this true, Annabel? Is he dead?” She nodded. 'He's a good fellow, and 'twill all end well'.
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