” “What else,” Lady Lescelles murmured, “are men for?” Anna laughed. I want to hear how she does it. “I wrote it for you. The lamp was spreading soot over everything and the reek of kerosene was stronger than usual. "We've no time for any Bedlam scenes now. That dress she has on—my mother might have worn it. Not fit to be dust on your boots. "I'm sorry," she said. Annabel had spoken calmly enough and steadily, but his brain refused at first to accept the full meaning of her words.
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