Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. ‘We?’ Gerald smiled. Impressed with this idea, he paused for a moment to listen. ” He spoke of secretarial work, but even there she would need to be able to do typing and shorthand. When Sheila was in a bad mood, she berated her new foster daughter for streaks on the windows, dust on the figurines, for crooked bed sheet corners, and floors that had not been waxed properly.
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