‘No more, Saling, no more,’ said Mrs Sindlesham in accents of exhaustion. “His love-making,” she remarked, “struck me as unconvincing. Wood fancied he recognised. “Sir John is a man of the world,” her aunt answered coldly. “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. ‘She’s perfectly right.
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