Mr. Larry kept digging heartily into his spaghetti, not intrigued in the slightest. Detention would mean coming home late, which spelled distraction and trouble on the night of a kill. “Couldn’t we three go out and have some coffee somewhere? The thought of that drawing-room paralyses me. ‘Do not say such things, you—you imbecile. She dropped the manuscripts and swiftly brought the coat to him, noting that a button hung loose.
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