Befuddle yourself, if you want to. Annabel shook her head. Perhaps Gerald was not as clothheaded as he had thought. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. Pearls in the dawn light, flashing and burning! "You don't like your island?" "I hate it!… But, there!"—weariness edging in.
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