" Miserably his thoughts shuttled to and fro in search of what he knew she wanted —a love story. It had her raven locks, her pouting lips. And here he was, but a hundred yards away, this wastrel who trailed his genius through the mud. A species of vertigo seized him. We should not bar any engagements at private houses, but in other respects the arrangement must be exclusive. My name is Annabel, not Anna.
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