And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left. The cook tried to ply her with spiced meat and fish soup. Mr. I am Lucilla Froxfield, you must know. “Your teeth are chattering! I’ll make you some hot chocolate!” Cathy cried. "Can't you guess?" returned Winifred, throwing her arms about her neck. “You know I’m old-fashioned, Miss Stanley. Come along, master.
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