She padded up the stairs to the bedroom, finding that her sheets had been changed with a fresh pillow case to welcome her weary head. She drifted back into the welcoming arms of sleep, feeling herself surrounded in silk. “It is the same man, Annabel,” she said. “Shit!” John quickly countered, “What are you going to do? She’s a motor-mouth, Lucy, of the worst kind. And my word's law—with you, at least," she added, bestowing a cutting glance upon her husband.
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