She dared not look directly at him, her head obscured by a gray hoodie, she had the slumped appearance of an androgynous adolescent. He was evidently nervous, and very anxious to be impressive; his projecting eyes sought to dominate. ” He panted. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. Is all your house on the same scale of magnificence as this, Annabel?” she asked, looking round.
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