It had her raven locks, her pouting lips. He would know her address to-morrow. But while there's life there's hope. Perhaps at the first blush—it strikes you as odd. Never again to be alone! To fit herself into this man's life as a hand into a glove; to use all her skill to force him into the position of depending upon her utterly; to be the spark to the divine fire! He should have his book, even if it had to be written with her heart's blood. . ’ ‘I do not lie to you now,’ she said, near frantic at the thought of losing him.
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