It was Annabel’s. Recovering himself quickly his instinct of self-defence was quicker than his recollection of Anna’s presence. “Yes,” she answered, looking away. I forget. The real ‘Alcide’,” she wound up with a faint smile across the table at him, “is here. ‘Laisse-moi!’ Impatience swamped him. Whatever those rights may be, whoever I am, my heart is yours. Above all, beware of Sir Rowland Trenchard. She would have been amazed if John was even aware of any one of the incidents.
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