It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. This woman, contrary to his custom, he answered. Horrible details recurred to her. It was a night well-fitted to their enterprise, calm, still, and profoundly dark. “It is very good of you to come and see me, my dear sister,” Annabel remarked, throwing herself into a low chair, and clasping her hands over her head.
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