But she had loved the man. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. He was introduced to Brendon, and a chair was brought by an attentive waiter. What better way to be rid of him? ‘Jacques,’ she uttered urgently. It was a great relief to arrive at last at that pause when she could say to her aunt, “Now, dear?” and rise and hold back the curtain through the archway.
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