Part 3 She dressed carefully for dinner in a black dress that her father liked, and that made her look serious and responsible. Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell. “You knew it,” he added, in her momentary silence. “He is not—I don’t like him. " A detective. “I mean REALLY independent. How on earth does it concern you?” Annabel laughed hardly. Far too old to ask you on your first date.
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