“I think we’ve exhausted this discussion,” she said. Courtlaw found himself ushered without questions into Annabel’s long low drawing-room, fragrant with flowers and somewhat to his surprise, crowded with guests. “I feared we might have a fog. Sadly, the Christmas break came to an end. I want to give myself to you. I can smell you. ” “What?” “That’s the devil of it!” “Devil of what?.
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