Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. There was no one stirring in the flats. Michelle looked at Lucy's feet, still in the ugly brown loafers she had worn since last year. Wood, disdainfully. In this state, it will be easy to draw him into a snare. I have always managed to survive, haven’t I?” She was eager to stop talking about her parents.
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