If I could but——” To escape from her thoughts she began to undress, humming a light tune to herself, though her eyes were hot with unshed tears, and the sobs kept rising in her throat. He glanced at the ruins of his High Priestess. He left that arid rule clear of the least mist of refinement or delicacy. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. "Nothing—nothing," she answered, bursting into tears. “I shall leave the flat to you and go to a hotel.
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