They went into Michelle's tiny bedroom, bare except for a dresser, a closet, and a miniscule single bed that resembled her own at the Becks. Annabel laughed a little uneasily. I don’t think women need to trouble about political questions. Young noblemen ought to be indulged in their frolics. These two elderly ladies would call her stark mad. Its cavernous expanses equaled the upstairs of the house. But what did the occupant of the box care? The laugh was always with the dead: they were out of the muddle. To find the true father at the expense of the beautiful fairy tale Ruth had woven around the woman in the locket was an intolerable thought. Suddenly she understood. All that was needed to complete the simile was that the girl should burst into song.
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