“No,” she said, under her breath, “you can’t face it. I am very good at guessing names. . E. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. ’ Taken aback, Gerald let out a short laugh. . “Just forget it, Lucy! Keep your secrets to yourself!” He stomped out, slamming the heavily paneled oak door.
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