She had traversed perhaps three bookshelves, passed across the door that must lead to the hall, turned the corner, and was just about to reach the fireplace when she abruptly became aware that something under her fingers had felt wrong. ’ Gerald frowned in an effort of memory, and then laughed as he recalled one of the lies she had invented for his benefit. You’re splendid stuff, you know, but you’ve got nothing ready to sell. Thames Darrell MUST die.
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