Courtlaw found himself ushered without questions into Annabel’s long low drawing-room, fragrant with flowers and somewhat to his surprise, crowded with guests. His expression became pained. He did not write this with lead but with his heart's blood. The quarry had passed out into the open sea. If only this man had been her father! The world would have meant nothing; the island would have been wide enough. Mother? Suzanne Valade, her mother? With deliberation, he spoke.
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