It wouldn’t be you. The doctor walked over to the bed, folded his arms across his chest and stared down into the unabashed eyes of his patient. She gave her a wink when John had turned to ask Mark if Lucy could ride home with them. . . . ’ ‘For God’s sake, don’t accuse her of murder,’ begged Gerald, retrieving the lady’s hat and handing it to her, ‘or she’ll be challenging me to a duel again. She looked, Dorothée said, just as she always looks.
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