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Perhaps she had found this new thing in life, the thing wonderful. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. " "Heaven have compassion on you, Rowland!" murmured his sister, crossing her hands and looking upwards; "you have none on me. ” “You are sure that he asked for me—not for Annabel?” “Certain,” Courtlaw answered. linked image back linked image back MADEMOISELLE AT ARMS Elizabeth Bailey © 2011 by Elizabeth Bailey All rights reserved.
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