Anabel is the kind of person I am at once fascinated by and scared of. At any point in a conversation, she could turn. If she mishears you, she repeats what you’ve said as though it is a question. If you say, “These flowers are beautiful,” she’ll say, “… Beautiful?” It’s an effortless way to cause discouragement. When Anabel spoke to me, each word was chosen and had purpose. Each word sounded sharp, sophisticated, and was meant to explain or investigate. I wasn’t familiar with this kind of poised dialect. Yes, there are shades of Ivy League, which makes each word sound round and permeable, but
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