She crouched beneath a stump, her extremities twitching as the sun set orange and blue beyond the lace of iron-black trees. Her glasses moved quickly as her glance travelled from face to face. Part of her even believed that her mother would have wanted her to stop feeling guilty and to be happy. I was happy to oblige them, I had grown sick of the heat of the south and all the miserable sun. Living’s just material. “What do you mean, Annabel? You only knew Mr.
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