" "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. Even Blueskin looked on with anxiety. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. Their idea of maidenly innocence was just a blank white—the sort of flat white that doesn’t shine. Courtlaw—Lady Mackinnor. The Return 231 II. Remember ——” Annabel clutched her sister’s arm.
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