’ ‘Tchah!’ He glared at her. Papillon would have broken him down; anything tender would have sapped his will; and like as not he would have left the stool and rushed into the night. ‘Are you going to come quietly, mademoiselle?’ he demanded with grim determination. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. That’s probably true. Then his tiny bow mouth opened into an adoring smile.
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