"Don't alarm yourself. An unhappy little sigh escaped her. "I'll tell you why," he said. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. Wood required little pressing. He was beautiful despite the odd angle. He stood away from her. Had it not been lashed to the adjoining wherry, it must have been upset, and have precipitated the opponents into the water. “I’ve thought about it. “It is unimportant,” she said.
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