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” “Bring her—here,” Hill muttered. She could smell the sweet girl child he had buried in the garage in autumn, 1 even under the frozen ground. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. ’ Then he bowed, raising his hat in salute and, crossing to the coach, spoke briefly to its driver and leapt into it without looking back. I can bear anything but suspense.
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