She produced from the depths of her pride the ugly investigatory note of the modern district visitor. Leaving the library by the same door she had first used to enter it earlier that day, she crossed the two little antechambers and moved on through the rooms. . The blouse dried nicely, it would only need a touch of starch and a little ironing. “Call me Annabel. I was certain of it. " Still the voice was without emotion; calm, colourless. ‘You wish a reason for jealousy? Eh bien, you may have it. ’ ‘Nonsense.
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