God, Lucy, what’s it been, how many years?” “I’m so sorry, John. I believe that her ladyship is going to Carey House, and on to the Marquis of Waterford’s ball,” he added, hastily consulting a diary on the hall table. I won’t even ask. But we've got to cook up some kind of a story to protect her. “I hope,” Annabel answered lazily, “that you have succeeded. Either we go forth together, or they shall bury me.
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