“Dear friend,” she said, “do not magnify me into a physiological problem. ’ ‘I thought you were dead,’ Melusine confided. “What have you done?” 212 “It is your own fault, Lucia. And, also, she wanted to borrow that money. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. Worse than any man. There was no rush.
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