" "But, man, this chap hasn't fallen soft. I am yours for the making over. ” “You are sure that he asked for me—not for Annabel?” “Certain,” Courtlaw answered. She sat on the edge of her bed and looked about her, at her room, at the row of black-covered books and the pig’s skull. Her fingers found the lump she sought and, with a little effort, she dragged out the black-wrapped foil.
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