‘Both of them so wise after the event. The honey on his tongue turned to ashes. “Sir John!” Annabel gasped. When she came in after dinner that night, Ruth was no longer an interesting phenomenon, something figuratively to tear apart and investigate: she was talismanic. Then he would turn his face to her, and she would have to think of herself in his eyes. Dorling said deferentially. ‘You must think me a fool, mademoiselle.
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