Little did I imagine at the time that it was my own father to whom he referred. She had grabbed! She became less and less attentive to his meditative, self-complacent fragments of talk as she told herself this. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. ‘Couldn’t even trouble to make a pretence of motherhood. I’ve never muffed an exam yet. Perhaps marriage hurt. \"Ever thought about letting me do something with your hair?\" Not needing an answer, Shari got up and whipped out a vented brush from an overstuffed drawer. A pane of glass was shivered by each stone. Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul.
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