” Annabel laughed derisively and took up her book. In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk. The priceless things were gathered, the belongings packed. A dry cough's the trumpeter of death. Why did you go back to your old look? Don’t take it personally, Lucy, but sometimes you look like you are trying to dress ‘poor’ or something. His face was downcast.
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