Why was she noting things like this? Capes seemed selfpossessed and elaborately genial and commonplace, but she knew him to be nervous by a little occasional clumsiness, by the faintest shadow of vulgarity in the urgency of his hospitality. “Annabel!” she exclaimed. Sir John looked about him, and somehow the laugh died away. She felt the softest touch caress her cheek, and a wave of tenderness engulfed Melusine. “I’ll get a towel.
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