"Red apples and snow!" she sent back at him, her face suddenly transfixed by some inner glory. To reach the door they had to pass the end of the table, and behind the chair where Mr. Sepulchre's bell is for ever ringing in my ears—oh!" "If that's the case," observed Wood, "I'm surprised you should like to have such a frightful picture constantly in view as that over the chimney-piece. It’s wrong in the eyes of most people. Annabel, tell me that you did not wish me dead.
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