‘She’s little more than a schoolgirl, just out. “I beg your pardon,” he said, “but you appear to be a fellow countrywoman of mine, and in some distress. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. “I’d have to be blown up into a thousand pieces. Goopes, she was sure was always high-browed and slow and Socratic. Somehow her walk home with him had been transmogrified into a melodramatic rejection, a slamming.
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