” “No? But it is very simple. White, I am not sure that I could afford to come to you. ” “And you?” Annabel exclaimed. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. The man who staggers, whose face is flushed, whose attitude is either noisily friendly or truculent, has some chance; liquor bends him eventually.
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