Warm reality was now so near her she could hear it beating in her ears. Now, more than ever, it was time to start running. She leaned back in her chair. “You must answer me, Annabel,” she continued. Her pa was only the smithy. ’ ‘Fiddle,’ scoffed Miss Froxfield. A familiar ache of wanting made itself more insistent in her belly. It was dated from the House of Commons on the previous day. If he wished, he could even take this inheritance from her.
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