Araceli Ream

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Thank goodness it was Barnaby, with his wind-whipped black hair under his green felt cap, his kind blue-gray eyes, his cheery voice and sharp cheekbones, and the silver scar that ran along his left cheek that told a story of a bomb on his childhood street in Hampstead Heath. His parents had refused to send him away, taking their chances.
The Secret Book of Flora Lea
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