It was a gracious gesture, she thought, as he trudged to the Beck’s humble doorstep in his stiff blue polyester uniform. laws alone swamp our small staff. His expression became pained. “Sir John is not at all that sort. Who is she, I say?” “My sister!” Annabel faltered. “Excellent fellow!” he answered a little irrelevantly. ’ ‘Good. And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune.
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