She tiptoed into the entryway where some decorator had placed a live orchid upon a glassy ebony table. “I wish you and I had drunk that love potion,” he said. ” “I promise,” Annabel declared. To wait for hours and hours for the night! The sea empty for days! You forgot the monotony, the endless monotony, that bends you and breaks you and crushes you—you forgot that!" Her voice had steadily risen until it was charged with passionate anger.
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