"I love you like a son, and will follow you like a dog. I presume that you have been living alone?” She sighed gently. Probably the latter, for the thronging ballroom was insufferably hot. ‘It is London’s loss, ma’am. ” For a time she sat on a rail before leaving the road for the downland turf. “You know of no one likely to have had a grudge against this man?” he asked. Her thoughts were deflected from Vivie Warren by the peculiar behavior of a middle-aged gentleman in Piccadilly.
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