To hand the key back in silence was like offering a lie. She came very near that night to resolving that she would return to her home next morning. The warm September sun fell strongly on this part of the grounds, uninterrupted by trees, its light bouncing off the glass in the mansion’s walls. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. “This isn’t furtive,” said Ann Veronica. He went into the study and sat down at his table, but not to write. Her blood spurted into his mouth and he drank.
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