If you don't conquer this disgraceful propensity in time, you'll soon come to want; and then nothing can save you. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. She had black hair, fine eyebrows, and a clear complexion; and the forces that had modelled her features had loved and lingered at their work and made them subtle and fine. She felt the bedsprings coil as he moved from his seated position, entranced. She wormed her way past Sebastian, glanced at her mother’s blackened face, her obscenely naked body bulging with yellow and black buboes under the arms and in the groin that oozed stinking fluid.
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