Marry me. What she did not know, and what she was never to know, was that the divine fire was hers. It was, Ann Veronica felt, as a sip or so of that remarkable blend warmed her blood, just the sort of thing that her aunt would not approve, to be lunching thus, tete-a-tete with a man; and yet at the same time it was a perfectly innocent as well as agreeable proceeding. “Don’t be an ass, Ferringhall,” he said tersely. Her head felt absurdly like one of those noddling manikins in the Hong-Kong curio-shops. He noted that she was fully dressed, that her hair was carefully done, that there was a knotted ribbon around her throat. org 1.
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