’ Gerald infused sympathy into his voice, and deliberately addressed himself to Madame. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. Oriental rugs adorned the sea of shiny hardwood floors, kept polished with an eye for detail that bordered on Japanese. The windows were still darkened—perhaps she was not home yet. "Where am I?" she cried, passing her hand across her brow.
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