Wood did think of it, and groaned aloud. ’ She sighed relief to see a faint grin as he ventured to raise his head. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. His head was small and bullet-shaped, and he did not wear a wig, but had his sleek black hair cut off closely round his temples. “I’ve got—I have to tell you this to make myself clear—a streak of ardent animal in my composition.
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