265 The madness crept around her like smoke under a door. Montague Hill?” Annabel put her hand suddenly to her throat and steadied herself with the back of a chair. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality. “My parents left for Vail on a plane this morning. He munched his popcorn steadily, periodically offering it to her, but not his Coke, as that would be too bold, a saliva exchange. Tucked under the writing-table a pair of yellow and gold Turkish slippers of a highly meretricious quality caught her eye. Maggot. Presently.
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