The white veil had fallen to the ground and Gerald retrieved it for her. Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door. But to choose this of all moments. She was amazed that at over sixhundred years old that she could miss her parents so bitterly. No doubt— because he did not understand you—he thought you had run away with someone. “The adventures I do not doubt, Annabel,” she said.
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