These cogitations were interrupted by the entrance of the doctor. She nuzzled his chest and he breathed deeply of the scent of her Finesse conditioner. What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel. His looks were fixed on his old benefactor. A widow for the fourth time, Mrs. Let your father—if he chooses, leave all his wealth to his adopted son. She didn’t choose her man. I never had even a real doll," she added, as she snuggled the flea-bitten head to her heart.
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