‘You are mad, if you think he will give you a sou. No man knew whence she had come nor why. The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them. ‘Well, what was I to think, miss? Martha never wrote nothing about you, and I did ask. Montague Hill?” Annabel put her hand suddenly to her throat and steadied herself with the back of a chair.
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