To be no longer with Martha was strange. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. James’ Park?” Anna nodded, and made a careful selection from a dish of quails. Ennison paused by the little gate. What the devil is her name, now we know she isn’t you?’ ‘Yolande,’ supplied Melusine.
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