"It is her child!" shrieked Rowland, in a voice heard above the howling of the tempest, "risen from this roaring abyss to torment me. A bad man, in fact. "This suspense is worse than torture. G. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. The period of repression was over. ’ Quick anger flared, surpassing the fluttering hope. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one.
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