“Who are you—Annabel Pellissier or her ghost?” Anna laughed. Kneebone, are these your French noblemen?" "Don't upbraid me!" rejoined the woollen-draper. She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard. In Larry’s old Cadillac sedan, she sat in the backseat as Larry drove and Cathy sat beside him.
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