Soup would help you feel better, soup and hot tea. There were the burnt papers still in the grate. It was hard to meet that gaze. ‘What are you going to do now, Gerald?’ He sipped his wine and shrugged. Already she missed all of her fine things, her linens and leather bound books. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. He turned in at the club. It will do its best to overlook things—” “If we let it, poor dear.
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