’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. Softly she rose to her feet. Of course there are, millions of them. They went to the gate and stopped there, gabbed with their men, and didn’t even dismount. “It is rather odd,” he said, “but I always thought that your name was Annabel and hers Anna.
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