" "Write him," urged Spurlock, finding speech. “It’s like this,” he said, and dragged a stool beside her and sat down with his elbow four inches from hers and made a sketch. “What have you done?” 212 “It is your own fault, Lucia. Her mind jumped with questions as fear raced through her and hardened into a bid for retaliation. “Let us go to that little place at the back of the Palace.
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