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I was Annabel the rake, ‘Alcide’ of the music halls. ” She closed her mouth. She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. I want to love him. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. But I have two hundred thousand pounds. Gerald tried it. The weather's been foul enough for the last fortnight, but I've never turned my back upon it. Apparently he did not see his recent companions. ” “And no one else—has a key?” “I believe,” she said, “that that man must have one.
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