” “There was no need for such heroism,” Annabel said coldly. ” He relapsed into a stony silence. . I wanted the magic of love. A dissipated, loose-living man. " Winifred's eyes filled with tears. “They died within a few months of one another. ” Annabel’s hand stole into his. Mind you don't stir till supper's over. He could not contain his satisfaction, but chuckled, and rubbed his hands with delight. Anna lets the deception continue and has to bear the burden of her sister’s reputation which, in Paris at any rate, is that of being a coquette.
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