This moment couldn’t be better until the next moment comes. Clear water gave away to gray as she waded deeper, feeling her slippers on rock. What about your luggage?” “I could get a few of my things, at any rate,” she said. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. ‘She ought to be.
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