E. . Keeping hold of the doorhandle, she turned slowly. Ennison stood by her side. He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. Sir John, who was standing outside, looked past him at the girl still sitting in the shadow. “The Annabel who lives here, who sings every night at the ‘Unusual’? They call her by your old name. She bussed his cheek with her small lips as he stood by the open door, and exited alone towards the sleeping house. But that doesn’t alter the fact that there IS innocence.
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