The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. Annabel turned on the electric light and made her way into the sitting-room. Clarice loved babies as much as Lucia did and chattered about them day and night. Our mutual safety requires it. And at the sight something leaped within her. ‘You the fellow Gerald spoke to?’ Kimble flushed beetroot, and Melusine had a flash of insight.
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