His hands came up, his face broke apart. Imbecile. He trembled, not from any superstitious dread, but from an undefined sense of approaching danger. “Call me Annabel. Sir John heard gossip about us—about Anna the recluse, a paragon of virtue, and Annabel alias ‘Alcide’ a dancer at the cafés chantants, and concerning whom there were many stories which were false, and a few—which were true.
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