Annabel is my only sister, you know, almost my only relative. He saw her eyes pass him and settle on a fleetingly pretty strawberry blond girl and her effeminate father. The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. “Look, dear,” she said presently, “you can put the ten on the Jack. She lied. She came to spend hours with the bastard children that the women brought, dressing and feeding the tiny ones, inventing games for the older ones.
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