Her expression was a little changed, less innocent, more discerning. “Garçon,” he said, “will you ask the gentleman at the next table if he will do me the honour of taking a glass of wine with me. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped. He must be gone to dispose of the body. Wait, though. She kissed him with a closed mouth, not as recklessly as she was tempted to do.
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