Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis. “You won’t give me away, Anna. I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. ’ ‘About me?’ The lady’s lashes fluttered and her fan came up. Just what in the world was that about? Before he could hazard a guess, Lucy looked back at him.
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