But here the resemblance stopped. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. The bleach had ruined it, with yellow-orange streaks invading the frizzy white that cascaded in wavy tendrils coated with greasy hairspray. His face clouded with anger. \" She said, bashful. Annabel, I cannot believe it. It was at breakfast on this day that he told Ruth he had sent to Batavia for some dresses.
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