“But for you Dad would never have let me marry Lescelles. It's gin—a liquor you used to like. He shivered and looked behind as he stepped into his hansom. I may want you. . It was he who saw them first coming down the room—Annabel in a wonderful white satin gown in front, and Sir John stiff, unbending, disapproving, bringing up the rear. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. “I wish he had,” she said.
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