Her formerly brown hair was dyed a white shade of blonde. Wagstaff. She—She can snub him. ‘I know,’ said Prudence Sindlesham, sympathy in her tone. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. “I think,” he said, “that some one ought to warn her. She had nothing to say for herself. Sir Rowland waved his hand, and the attendant withdrew.
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