” Lucy said, thinking of the Becks who worked around the clock just to keep a tiny house in the same neighborhood. They vanished through the doorway. ’ Gerald could not resist. A sound sleeper, she was not roused by the creaky openings and closings of drawers as Lucy packed a single duffle bag with underwear and soap that was pilfered from a multipack of Zest in the Beck’s downstairs bathroom. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. ‘You will take the place of André?’ ‘Exactly so.
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