I think not, Annabel. The noose was at its throat when I called for help. He felt hands tugging at him, mysterious creatures with long fingers and sharp nails that pulled at his flesh. His gray eyes were closed, his persimmon-colored lips open and panting. On reaching the churchyard, he perceived the melancholy procession descending the hill. Paris, romantizmle birlikte artık güzel kokan bir şehir haline geldi.
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