Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. He was not used to not getting his way. Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. I’ve wanted you—always. Left to Capting Roding, as he told me hisself, you’d be in prison this moment. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. ’ He nodded.
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