” Annabel looked at him curiously. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. She rapped on Michelle’s door loudly. She moved towards it slowly and picked it up, holding it out in front of her whilst the familiar perfume seemed to assert itself with damning insistence. What could I do at home? The other’s a crumple-up—just surrender.
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