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“How old are you?\" He looked at her engagingly. Anna suddenly leaned forward and looked around her. Wood. He built her the most beautiful castle 242 in the world in the desert, carving fountains where real water ran and gardens in a place where no plant had ever bloomed. The lad had just barely jangled it, when hurrying footsteps could be heard inside. “Annabel! God in Heaven, it is Annabel!” She did not speak. “To the best of my belief, I have not a single English acquaintance in the city.
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