’ ‘And now we know also who is the prétendant, Mademoiselle Charvill. Mr Jarvis’s sister, that was. Sir John felt that after all forty-five was not so very old. “Tell your sister she was right to shoot, quite right. ” Annabel had been lying curled up on the lounge, the personification of graceful animal ease. Ruth stared into the painted face, now sundrily cracked by the coursing tears.
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