‘Pray you, mademoiselle, can you not—’ ‘No use trying to enlist Lucilla’s aid,’ snapped Roding. Outside in the hall he paused and thoughtfully stroked his smooth blue chin. Courtlaw found himself ushered without questions into Annabel’s long low drawing-room, fragrant with flowers and somewhat to his surprise, crowded with guests. She shrugged her shoulders. Unlocking it, he entered the chamber, which by no means belied its external appearance. No: I must face it out. You simply can’t.
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