I’d only get a pack of lies in reply. ‘I suppose he isn’t this Leonardo you spoke of?’ ‘Certainly he is not Leonardo. “The truth!” Annabel bent over her and whispered in her sister’s ear. “It’s his birthday. ” Her reverie broke, and she found herself still in front of the looking glass, a barrette hanging loosely from her hair. “Some afternoon. Upon the pavement near the court lay the porter, who had been prostrated by a blow from the butt-end of a pistol.
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