Anna, I listened to all that he had to say, and I called to him to let me get out. Let’s face it, she hates Missy’s guts. ’ ‘Unless it is Captain Roding,’ put in Lucilla Froxfield from the curved back sofa on the other side of the fireplace. The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. Anna, quitting her chair, dropped on her knees by her sister’s side and took her hand.
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