” “May I ask,” Anna said softly, “what you presume to have been the nature of my errand here this evening?” Sir John pointed to Annabel, who was as yet utterly limp. “So it seems that I was wrong. Wood, "and I'll take care of Thames. All this Woman-who-Diddery —no damn good. ” He would say every time she wore it. She would be elemental; there would be in her somewhere the sleeping tigress. There was no such a thing as perfection in a mixed world.
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