Gerald at once rid himself of his own glass and leapt to her assistance. " He laughed and followed her into the hotel. “Is this true, Annabel? Is he dead?” She nodded. Her complexion had resisted the snow-glare wonderfully; her skin had only deepened its natural warmth a little under the Alpine sun. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song.
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