She might even forgive him. ‘Oh, dearie me, you make me feel a traitor. Trust you. The shock and distress were genuine. You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical. ’ ‘So would you run away,’ she uttered impulsively. “Let me get you some water, Annabel.
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