He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories. Annabel was conscious then of the slow anger which had been burning within her since the night of her visit to the “Unusual. “Who do you think cares for your children as you dally with my husband, Clotilde?” Lucy asked. “Yes,” she said, very faintly. "But don't wait for me, Sir Cecil. ’ Quick anger flared, surpassing the fluttering hope. If you met her you would, I am certain, think her as fine as I do.
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