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” “There was no need for such heroism,” Annabel said coldly. Poor little one. She was not Madame Melusine Valade. She acted as her mother had taught her to. He munched his popcorn steadily, periodically offering it to her, but not his Coke, as that would be too bold, a saliva exchange. Why? He could preach the Word and deny Love!—tame the savage heart, succour broken white men!—pray with his face strained with religious fervour! The idea made her dizzy because it was so inexplicable.
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