Already the warm sun was drawing from the pines their delicious odour. Is all that folly done with—for ever?” Annabel shivered ever so slightly. Sheppard, struggling to get free. Hers was beauty on a large scale no doubt; but it was beauty, nevertheless: and the carpenter thought her eyes as bright, her complexion as blooming, and her figure (if a little more buxom) quite as captivating as when he led her to the altar some twenty years ago.
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