‘Whither away, mademoiselle?’ he said grimly, ungently grasping her arm above the elbow. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. And now, only twenty-four hours behind him … that is, if he wasn't paddling by on the return route to Hong-Kong or had dropped down to Macao. Annabel shook her head. So I undertook to protect her by keeping love out of her life, by crushing it whenever it appeared, obliterating it. ” He handed her the phone reluctantly, barely masking his mild disgust. “I suppose I fell in love with her, Ann Veronica.
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