” “I suppose so. “Good-bye,” he said earnestly. ” Lucy looked at the small shelf which was jammed with thick paperbacks by every major horror novelist of the twentieth century. “It was the night you left Paris. Ennison himself, with the recollection of Annabel’s visit still fresh in his mind, was for a moment constrained and ill at ease. She rested for a half hour in heaven on earth, feeling herself drift in and out of sleep.
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