She’s naïve, and yet uncannily shrewd at times, and you daren’t rely on anything she says. The ceiling had, in many places, given way; the laths had been removed; and, where any plaster remained, it was either mapped and blistered with damps, or festooned with dusty cobwebs. “Sir John!” Annabel gasped. She felt sharp animal teeth pierce her above her shoulder. At times I swear I’ve never met a more jaded fifteen-year-old, and your lie about being sixteen didn’t get by me for one second, believe it.
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