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Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. ’ ‘How do you do?’ Gerald said pleasantly, stepping from the pillared portico and coming down the shallow stairway. “He says you are frigid, Madame. ” His lips tightened, and he frowned with solemn resolution. Earles himself stood upon the threshold of his sanctum, the prototype of the smart natty Jew, with black hair, waxed moustache, and a wired flower in his button-hole.
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