’ Melusine’s heart twisted. “Annabel,” she said, “I have never asked you for your confidence. It was time to disappear, no more Becks, no more Spaghetti Nights, no more afternoon kisses in the park with John Diedermayer. They found a cosy little table in the tea-rooms, and everything was delicious. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. Anna was having tea by herself when she entered.
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