Sheppard raised her hand, and the malediction trembled upon her tongue. Do you think a jeune demoiselle may possess more weapons than this?’ ‘Most young ladies would not be in possession of any weapons,’ Gerald said tartly. The manager twisted his moustache. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. ‘I know,’ said Prudence Sindlesham, sympathy in her tone. They will say that it was murder. She wished that the drive would never end, but it was only three miles after all. My father died a year ago, by the way.
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