She saw his eyes glaze over. "Anything else?" "Your waistcoat. It won't do to knock at the door, and Jonathan Wild's house is not quite so easy of entrance as Mr. “Yes?” “You remember once, how we talked—at a gate on the Downs? We talked about how a girl might get an independent living. ” “Annabel, are you mad? To England! You are joking, of course. It seems to me just talk; it seems to me like the fancy of a dream. Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably.
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