“What are your objections?” she said. Fifteen from forty is twenty-five. The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them. I drew out what I had saved and boarded the first ship out. Chapter XXIII MONTAGUE HILL SEES LIGHT AT LAST At exactly ten minutes past ten Annabel rang the bell of her sister’s flat. ‘Cajolery? This is not your style.
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