” She smiled grimly at the recollection of that lunch—tea and roll at a cheap café. “The walk has given me an appetite, and I do not feel like waiting till five o’clock. ‘I can’t do that. I had never dreamed of such a friend as you. I cannot think he will welcome a French émigré for his granddaughter. ” “For the others,” Annabel said tearfully, “that is well enough. Monsieur Charvill, he is also my cousin. What is it? Good God!” An unhappy little smile parted her lips.
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