He turned the wheel carefully as he touched her neck with the other, threading her soft curls in between his slim fingers. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian. “No,” she answered. One must be on guard. “Yes,” she said at last, “it is firm and affectionate. Who is she, I say?” “My sister!” Annabel faltered.
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