You will be my witness, Madame Joan. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. “It’s magnificent!” He leaned back and regarded her with his head a little on one side. She was a merry creature, it is true, and quite beautiful. He had meant to be master of his fate that evening and it had escaped him altogether. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure.
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