It probably had its own repulsive oubliette in the bottom, where tiny princesses could fall and break their necks. She slipped down the perfunctory flight of stairs, short because of the home’s split-level style. Each one had been different from the others, each had had a quality all its own, a distinctive freshness, a distinctive beauty. “I wonder if there is anything wrong with my manners,” she said. ” She shook her head deliberately, hopelessly. ” Annabel clutched her sister’s hands. " "Ay, and there's my liver.
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