Anna and her escort exchanged glances. What are you after?’ ‘But my pistol and dagger, imbecile,’ she exclaimed impatiently, moving sharply back. She would never again be lonely. I met a Hindu a few weeks ago who was a Harvard man. Another picture slid across her vision. ‘Who’d believe me? And I’d have to tell my part in it all, too. She could smell the savory tinge of his sweat in the air. “I love you, Ann Veronica.
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