Her mouth was worthy of her face; with small, pearly-white teeth; lips glossy, rosy, and pouting; and the sweetest smile imaginable, playing constantly about them. Annabel, I was lying. Consent to become my wife, and do not compel me to have recourse to violence to effect my purpose, and I will spare your son. "Where is he?" asked she, in an agitated whisper. "It is open," replied the lady, rushing towards it, and springing through the outlet.
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