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” The detective turned again to Anna. She could smell him almost as strongly as she could the new paint on the fire escape walls, along with the wool suit and the weird polyester smell of his wet umbrella. But she veiled her feelings. ” “It is most unlikely that I shall be able to do so,” Anna answered. What were you doing at Remenham House? I can’t puzzle that bit out. . A woman isn’t much freer—in reality. She knew Martha would not ask anything that she did not wish to know. What reassured her, however, more than anything else, was the shape of the mouth: it was warmly turned. She imagined herself on a barren 41 plain, post-Apocalypse, convulsing, waiting to die with the cockroach.
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