There was no reason why she shouldn’t be his restrained and dignified friend. It was Annabel who spoke. “Much as I hate rows, I’ve either got to make a stand or give in altogether. She was surprised to find how stored her mind was with impressions and memories of him, how vividly she remembered his gestures and little things that he had said. He turned to observe what this object was that had so unexpectedly diverted the young man's attention. Pure luck! If the boy had grown a moustache or a beard, a needle in the haystack would have been soft work.
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