’ ‘Yes, that rather leapt to the eye,’ Gerald said, and the faint smile sent a lick of warmth down inside her. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. “I found not one but two photos when I researched the death of the McCloskeys. Love!” He held her arm and abandoned it again at her quick defensive movement. “What do you mean?” she asked. ‘I have told you I will take Jacques. The spy—if there was one hiding out in the late Jarvis Remenham’s empty house—would be taken unawares.
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