It did affect the business that they all argued badly and were egotistical in their manners and inconsistent in their phrases. “Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. “My dear,” she said, when she could get her breath, “you must come home at once. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped. I could not love you else. ‘A French rat with exceedingly long arms, I see.
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