‘Don’t concern yourself,’ Gerald said calmly. In mid-bite, she heard a car door slam that was recognizable. “For me there is no second turn. Anna raised her eyebrows at the sight of him. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. There were cakes and sandwiches—for Ennison a sort of Elysian feast, long to be remembered. “But Sir John?” he exclaimed.
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