“No, I’d like to. My name is Annabel, not Anna. The elastic spirits of youth resumed their sway; and, before the coach stopped, his tears had ceased to flow. He would come swiftly to her aid, she knew it. “I wanted to make love to you. Pretty good stuff, some of it. “You can’t think that I’m fool enough to be put off like this. The young man entered into a lively little war of words with a yellow-haired young person near the door. He meant to take her out of this room, perhaps even out of the house. linked image back linked image back MADEMOISELLE AT ARMS Elizabeth Bailey © 2011 by Elizabeth Bailey All rights reserved.
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