Ennison spoke at last. “Call me Annabel. "Who isn't it like?" he asked, endeavouring to gain possession of the drawing, which, af the sound of his footstep, she crushed between her fingers. " "Let me touch you, then; let me feel if you are really flesh and blood," cried the poor maniac, creeping towards him on all fours. " "I am not unprotected," rejoined the poor woman; "there's some one at the window.
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