58 \"Why will you not touch me?\" She cried out, sitting up, her head in her hands. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. Miss Garvice repeated again, and almost in the same words she used at every discussion, her contribution to the great question. I—listen. Oh! my dear, dear son, be warned in time. We’ll find a way to survive. Those who lived outside the law might squabble among themselves, even unto death, Leonardo told her.
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