Turning, she flew for the nearest door. Spurlock had not coached her on this line of conduct. It was painted in the early seventeenth century by a minor artist named DuPre. "Ay, indeed! And who may that be?" inquired his wife. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. She doesn't understand; she believes he has taken a sudden dislike to her. And let us go on with our evening.
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