‘Seems quiet enough,’ observed the junior officer, his gaze raking the shuttered windows of the building’s grey stone frontage. ‘Jacques!’ She got no further, for Kimble came towards her, speaking fast and low. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. As though accidentally she swept her skirts from a chair close drawn to her own.
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