She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. She felt privileged above other women at parties, where she was on display as all the duchesses and queens looked upon her with envy as he was so clearly entranced by her in every way. ” Sir John’s head bent lower and lower. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. The doctor had sown a seed, carelessly. It was too good to be true. It is queer how ideas pop into one's head. "I give you joy of the capture, Mr.
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