The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them. "'Sdeath! do you trifle with me, sirrah?" cried Rowland fiercely. “If it is a choice between the two,” she answered, “I must be Annabel Pellissier. “Now I’ll have what I want from you, wife. I’m sorry to hurt your feelings. ‘You could have fetched me home.
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