” Annabel had been lying curled up on the lounge, the personification of graceful animal ease. "The Wastrel seemed to take it all right. She saw now that it was not a dissipated face; it was as smooth and unlined as polished marble, which at present it resembled. If hate could kill, Ramage would have been killed by a flash of hate. Michelle was too polite to put it into words. These sisters moved in a grown-up world inaccessible to Ann Veronica’s sympathies, and to a large extent remote from her curiosity.
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