“I am a fool,” he said. ‘Gérard—’ ‘What now?’ he asked, rife with suspicion. We have a great deal to discuss, you and I. . Caution forced her to speak calmly. She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. “I love some one else.
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