The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. Lucy felt the hairs on her neck rise. It was denied him, for as he closed his eyes—though but for an instant—the whole scene of his former visit to the place rose before him. Be honest, and you will be happy. “Tiffany’s?” He looked at her comically. Go in, go in, Melusine prayed, hoping desperately that he would not change his mind and take another route.
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