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It was a purse. "My lips would belie my heart were I to refuse you. ” Annabel had been lying curled up on the lounge, the personification of graceful animal ease. He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness. ‘That’s what comes of disarming yourself. They tracked the fugitive to the Mint; but, like hounds at fault, they here lost all scent of their prey.
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