She could feel her face turning beet red. “You must not think of me as one. ‘It is London’s loss, ma’am. He had made it even easier by walking up the steps instead of taking the elevator. He grunted a little with effort, and she realised the gilt frame must be heavy. Darting quickly to the chest that contained the priest’s vestments, she leapt onto it and reached her arm down to scrabble behind it on the floor.
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