" "It shall be, Sir," replied Ireton, bowing. ” Anna stepped to the foot of the bed. Michelle awoke suddenly, violently. She was young and bright, little to no make-up except for lip-gloss, long, straight, glossy reddish blonde hair slightly past her shoulders. She had never experienced anything so disagreeable in her life as the sense of being held helplessly off her feet. This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s.
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