Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume. You needn’t be in any doubt about it. ‘She would not tell me. But eventually Spurlock laughed.
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