“Annabel!” He looked at her thoughtfully. ” He said to her. The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast. Jonathan had not deceived him. There was, in fact, only one clear thought in his fevered brain: he had reached the hotel without falling down. Nevertheless, relief washed over her, her body rejoicing in the afterglow of twenty years of tension released. ’ It’s a duplicate of the French one.
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