She fought a compulsive urge to yank his shirt free. “Why are you so distant? Why all the mystery? What are you, a narc? Double-oh-seven or something?” She steeled herself, refusing to react. "Where's Thames?" he hastily inquired. This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house. If she had once known him, if he were some former neighbour, it would be comprehensible. ‘The poor girl was thrust into a convent to become a nun. .
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