Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. At the back of her mind, dim and yet disconcerting, was the perception that she herself did not know what she wanted. And yet, when you offered to help, it was what is to come that I had in mind. Monsieur Valade heaved a gusty sigh, and Gerald, with heavy diplomacy and a forced heartiness of manner, turned the subject. .
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