She fixed her brilliant eyes upon him. The boiling under her stern, however, told him nothing. Annabel was conscious then of the slow anger which had been burning within her since the night of her visit to the “Unusual. ‘I suppose he isn’t this Leonardo you spoke of?’ ‘Certainly he is not Leonardo. ‘You give me an excellent excuse to have in the Madeira,’ said his hostess, reaching for a silver hand bell and setting it pealing.
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