Both, perhaps?’ At that, her eyes darkened with fury. Love and lavender, he thought, perhaps wistfully. “The Annabel who lives here, who sings every night at the ‘Unusual’? They call her by your old name. She said as much to him. If I had never met anything of you at all but a scrap of your skin binding a book, Ann Veronica, I know I would have kept that somewhere near to me. “I am sorry. linked image back linked image back MADEMOISELLE AT ARMS Elizabeth Bailey © 2011 by Elizabeth Bailey All rights reserved. It was the blood she found that cemented her decision that her foster daughter was a criminal. "Or the street," returned Jack: "mind my words, the prison's not built that can keep me.
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