He said nothing. “Annabel, I begin to see why you are here. Submission to the inevitable carried her through the circumstances of her appearance before the magistrate. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. On this fresh outburst of the storm, Wood threw himself instinctively into the bottom of the boat, and clasping the little orphan to his breast, endeavoured to prepare himself to meet his fate.
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