” “By all means,” Brendon answered. No matter how many books one read, each was different, as each human being was different. He looked across at Annabel, and he groaned. ’ I said. I never could. ‘Melusine, if you don’t let go my hand—’ He broke off as she dragged a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve. "Adorable girl!" he cried, in the most impassioned tone, and with the most impassioned look he could command. Then pain entered their depths. ‘Gérard will think that I have gone back to London. ‘And that Suzanne, the sister of my cousin the vicomte, must choose between Monsieur Charvill and her brother. ‘May I, indeed? I’ll take you up on that. For ten years I've been trying to go home, but my conscience will not permit me, I hate the Orient.
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