He got up. “Did he tell you, Annabel?” “Yes. You see, the horse it does not belong to me, nor to the nuns. Sheppard reached the debtor's garrison. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. The girl was pretty, and apparently a lady. ‘Will that be all, ma’am?’ ‘Yes, yes.
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