‘You don’t know him. He was brooding over her, she could sense it, and the shadowy circles around his lovely dark eyes bespoke a terrible ongoing insomnia. For a moment her thoughts led her back to the evening when she and Courtlaw had stood together before the window of her studio in Paris, before the coming of Sir John had made so many changes in her life. . ’ Lucilla eyed him with one of those particularly feminine looks it was difficult for a mere male to interpret. “I would have given up anything to see you your old self again—as you are this evening.
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