There was granite in her face and agate in her eyes. Is all your house on the same scale of magnificence as this, Annabel?” she asked, looking round. Read that letter, Thames—my lord marquis, I mean. The walls were pristine white and unmarked except for two sconces and a rather colorless Monet poster that had been framed in an expensive oak surround. “Oh my God, what if she’s dead?” More giggling.
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