She liked his face; it had on it the suggestion of gentleness, of fineness. His voice propelled her to cry even harder, so hard that she began to laugh behind her tears. Annabel looked up and down the empty street, and then turned to her sister. No mother would have sent her daughter into the world with such a wardrobe. We went to the Embassy. It’s odd, but nothing but cliche seems to meet this case.
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