That was the true miracle of the gift; without actual experience, to imagine love and hate and greed and how they would react upon each other; and then, when these passions had served their temporary purpose, to cast them aside for new imaginings. "I'll not believe it. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape.
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