"What poet was that?" "Stevenson. She kept opening her eyes and looking at it. She’s obsessed with him, you know, totally obsessed. Don’t touch the handle, Annabel! Curse the thing, you’ve jammed it now. Satisfied, however, that she did not notice him, Jonathan glided away as noiselessly as he came, and ascended another short flight of stairs leading to the garret. ‘Is it such a terrible prospect? I will take care of you—as long as you obey me. The lips of the mask twisted upward into a smile.
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