"We must keep still. “I knew,” she said, in a low despairing tone, “that people would talk. ‘Poor things. I don’t know that I understand altogether. The young man's imagination suddenly pictured the man as a rock, loosed from its ancient bed, crumbling as it fell. Michelle smiled. “You are mine, Annabel, and nothing shall ever make me give you up. You seemed complete—without that. I wrenched this off, and in an envelope addressed to me in faded ink, I found the locket and the pearls.
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