” “The explanation seems to me to be reasonably simple,” Annabel said coldly. “I don’t think I CAN do that,” she said. He would sit in his inner office and compose conversations with her, penetrating, illuminating, and nearly conclusive—conversations that never proved to be of the slightest use at all with her when he met her face to face. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. He seemed so clean anyway, his fair 215 skin, his light brown hair, there almost seemed to be no point. A young man turned to pay the cabman. ‘Precisely.
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