“What ought she to do?” “Suppose you—” “Yes, suppose I—” He felt that his advice was being asked. The same pale white buttocks, the same freckles in the same unchanging patterns on her collarbone that all of her mother’s potions had never been able to erase. ’ Miss Froxfield intervened quickly as her betrothed showed signs of erupting again. She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist. ” Annabel clutched her sister’s hands.
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