He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. “Annabel!” He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Home?’ ‘To your family. ” He was still conscious when they reached the hospital and his state was much more favourable. Her glasses moved quickly as her glance travelled from face to face. He had studied alchemy and astronomy, was a capable painter, and even wrote music.
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