Spurling, indignantly; "but I can tell you we have. I don’t see what you can have to say. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. She located her foster family. She fidgeted and looked away. “It was your own fault,” she exclaimed. It’s gone. That last year in Paris, when Annabel and she had lived in different worlds, had often been a nightmare to her.
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