It was past seven when she got back to her hotel. The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them. ” Anna glanced up. "Something worse, I fear," Wood replied. He remained standing by the stem of the proa, his glance roving investigatingly. "The only disguise I ever put on is a dress-suit, and I look as natural as a pig at a Mahomedan dinner. Parbleu, but must she do this all through the house? Evidently she must, for not only could she not properly see the paintings and portraits that hung on the walls, but she was in imminent danger of bumping into the sheet-shrouded furniture. “Believe what, Michelle?” Lucy asked.
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