This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house. And then: “Of course! Always. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. ’ ‘Merci,’ she sighed and, surrendering at last to his oft-proffered aid, allowed her head to droop onto his chest. You want industry—you want steadiness. After all, it was what she had been praying for—and Annabel could not have known her address.
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