Instead, they lived a Bohemian existence, moving from patron to patron, city to city. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. "I don't know what his idea was. “That’s not working so well for you, is it?” She looked at him sheepishly, bringing a Kleenex out of her pocket to wipe away the excess. .
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