He was snoring stupidly. He seemed to avoid meeting Anna’s eyes as much as possible. She had arranged for a supper of tea, a boiled egg, and some tinned peaches. ” “That’s rather a pity,” Annabel said. ’ ‘Your husband?’ Gerald tutted. ‘Mad as hatters!’ ‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly. It does not work, I still suffer madness. There are men in the Lowndean who laugh at him—simply laugh at him.
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