Her hormones were raging stupidly. “Mr. ” Drummond, a few years older, dark, clean-shaven, with bright eyes and humorous mouth, laid down his paper and turned towards Sir John. I overlooked the mechanical imperfections of your work, the utter lack of finish, the crudeness of your drawing. ’ ‘Yes, that rather leapt to the eye,’ Gerald said, and the faint smile sent a lick of warmth down inside her.
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