They had been playing tennis, with his manifest intention looming over her. ‘Hadn’t meant you to know,’ said the nun gruffly. Courtlaw found himself ushered without questions into Annabel’s long low drawing-room, fragrant with flowers and somewhat to his surprise, crowded with guests. The smell assaulted them even before they entered the restaurant, greasy and savory. Pardon what I have said, Madam. Beyond the steps was a pole-chair in readiness.
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