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The evenings were dulcet and soft. I’m not sure if Janine cared. “Well, you certainly did very well at tea,” she remarked. It was astonishing how often this picture returned: cold rosy apples and flurries of snow. “Don’t be childish, Annabel. But never mind that," said McClintock grinning as he drew the dish of bread-fruit toward him. Stars appeared in the periphery of her vision. You called her a wanton!" "Because I had every reason to believe she was one.
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