*** Madame la Comtesse de St Erme regarded the English major with a lacklustre eye, Gerald thought. Why in heaven’s name didn’t I think of that before?’ ‘What are you talking of?’ ‘Never mind that now. ‘Oh, my God, she’s gone!’ Wrenching his hand from his friend’s slackened grasp, he darted for the door, Roding behind him. “The Annabel who lives here, who sings every night at the ‘Unusual’? They call her by your old name.
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