Lethal white robert galbraith5/24/2023 Cunliffe’s teeth were straight and white. Matthew Cunliffe, no need to angle the lady so that rolls of back fat were hidden (she was, if anything, fractionally too slender, but that would photograph well), no need to suggest the groom “try one with your mouth closed,” because Mr. There was no need for tactful tricks with the new Mr. He couldn’t remember when he had last been commissioned to photograph so handsome a couple. He was loath to change the couple’s position, because the soft light beneath the canopy of trees was turning the bride, with her loose red-gold curls, into a pre-Raphaelite angel and emphasizing the chiseled cheekbones of her husband. If only the swans would swim side by side on the dark green lake, this picture might turn out to be the crowning achievement of the wedding photographer’s career. Happiness, dear Rebecca, means first and foremost the calm, joyous sense of innocence.
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