Agreeably he helped her take the shirt off. ‘Mad as hatters!’ ‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly. Thames did not try to cheer her. She did not wince. Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. “Pellissier,” she repeated thoughtfully. “Uh, I think I might, Shari.
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