It forbids—all sorts of things. "I can't tell you!" she replied, blushing deeply, and clinching her little hand as tightly as possible; "it's a secret!" "I'll soon find it out, then," he returned, playfully forcing the paper from her grasp. “Call me Annabel. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. There was plenty of sweet water.
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