For a moment he did not recognize Annabel. It is the old story of a Westerner meddling with an Eastern custom. Vorsack sat alone at his computer in his pajamas. No great lover of state or state costume at any time, he was generally, towards the close of an evening, completely in dishabille, and in this condition he now presented himself to his subjects. She had eaten them, murdered them routinely, and yet he loved her still. She softened her tone and scrambled for the right words. Martin came to the door, looking radiant and relieved.
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