Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. His name was Bartolomeo di Alberti. CHAPTER XXII. I’ll feel fine as soon as I get out of my wet clothes. Spurling bit her lips to conceal her mirth. Is all your house on the same scale of magnificence as this, Annabel?” she asked, looking round. ‘Oh no, you don’t,’ said Gerald in a low tone.
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