‘If you are not going to visit Charvill today, I’ll escort you back to the convent in Golden Square. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. “I am going to ignore it. I can’t explain—” They regarded one another, each blinded to the other. "Leave him to me," he said. God help me. She closed her eyes and felt again an echo of the swamping warmth that had attacked her when his lips met hers.
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