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Mr. Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. He could have easily forced it, but preferred a more expeditious mode of reaching the roof which suggested itself to him. “Come on in, Michelle. " Half an hour later she laid aside the book. There was a strip of old rose brocade in the making that set an ache in the girl's heart for the want of it.
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