If you do not help me to read the riddle of yourself, Annabel, I think that very soon I shall be a candidate for the asylum. . If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. He reached the top floor and ran down the corridor to the little dressing room at the end where he had lost her before. "I can't hold it much longer—it'll break my wrist. “Hey, Mike. “I knew you wouldn’t mind. .
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