A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. His noble Florentine roots went back a thousand years, to the days of grand Rome herself. β βIn a way she had been,β said Prudence. The booming voice and the energetic movements spoke plainly of hurry. Ramage did not know. β She looked at him quizzically. Kneebone's man is in the shop," said Rachel; "he'll take it. Is Jack what Mrs.
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