Her cheeks seemed to burn, her veins ran riot, and her heart was beating so fast that she was sure he must feel it through his scarlet coat. She was trying to bring her problems to a head, and her mind insisted upon being even more discursive and atmospheric than usual. “One doesn’t wait,” said Ann Veronica. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered.
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