Have you anything to tell me before you go?” Annabel laughed lightly. The little pucker in her brows became more perceptible. “These clothes are French, and I’m sure this floppy bow would make a Frenchman of me anyhow. ” He scarcely saw her face again. A woman hard to read, who seemed to delight in keeping locked up behind that fascinating rigidity of feature the intense sensibility which had been revealed to him, her master, only in occasional and rare moments of enthusiasm.
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