She saw her discarded nun’s habit still on the floor and scooped it up. “The surgeon’s knife is surely a kindly weapon,” she declared. I heard only after it was all over. “You belong to me,” he said fiercely; “the marriage certificate is in my pocket. “You are my friend,” she said, “if any one is. But Jonathan was not to be deterred. It was her past now, not Annabel’s.
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