She opened the window, for the night was mild, and sat on the floor with her chin resting upon the window-sill. “You are mine, Annabel, and nothing shall ever make me give you up. . S. Sudden indignation boiled up in him. S. They then entered the room, which was perfectly dark. . ’ I wanted, as I have never wanted before, to take you up, to make you mine, to carry you off and set you apart from all the strain and turmoil of life. " "You delight me with the intelligence," said the stranger, entirely recovering his cheerfulness of look. At the open door stood a young man in a rich garb with a mask on his face, who was encouraging the mob by words and gestures. “Why not?” “Because you are mine.
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