Annabel shines like a star in the darkness, Rosamund queens it a rose, deep rose; But the lady I love is like sunshine in April weather, She gleams and gladdens, she warms—and goes. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. Ben watched these manoeuvres with great interest, and strained every sinew in his frame to keep ahead of the other boats. Why he paid so much attention to Sir James Thornhill may be explained anon.
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