His stories had enchanted her, even if in some deep corner of her heart she guessed they were not entirely true. She stared at him. You know, I’ve done no work at all this afternoon. ‘No doubt accompanied by the latest crim con tales. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. “And by what right do you do anything of the sort?” “No right at all,” he admitted. “Then some of your family history is known to me. Remember ——” Annabel clutched her sister’s arm. " But Spurlock put up his guard. She was no longer certain that she desired an Englishman, if she must judge of one in particular. Only a book detective could dope this out.
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