“Call me Annabel. ” His eyes were squeezed shut. ‘I do not wish to be like him, but it is entirely reasonable that it should be so. ‘That’s better. Tell him the truth, Annabel. Even WITH the Censorship of Plays there’s hardly a decent thing to which a man can take his wife and daughters, a creeping taint of suggestion everywhere. Every time you mention the father, she turns into marble. Her face reminded him of a delicate unglazed porcelain cup, filled with blond wine. “I’m still inside you.
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