The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. “You seem to be taking our little joke more seriously than it deserves, Ferringhall,” he remarked. If you can imagine it, I survived it. Go away!” “Why kill this one, Lucia? She shall be missed. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. Something to tell you.
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