" Bamboo and bead tinkled and slithered behind him. A slow anger burned in the man. She was going to him soon and certainly, going to his strong, embracing arms. He looked across at Annabel, and he groaned. “What year was 221 that, about 1350?” He asked in wonderment. Somehow or other his reputation as a hardened and unassailable bachelor had won for him during the last few years a comparative immunity from attentions on the part of those women with whom he had been brought into contact. His face clouded with anger. “Um, okay.
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