" Jack approached her. From the centre of the ceiling hung a replica of the temple lamp in the Taj Mahal. I hated him. But he had shown no desire for information, no curiosity. His hair had begun to gray, his belly had just begun to round. Rollo barked. ‘I might have killed you,’ she snapped, ‘if only you did not say anything. Come close to me, and let me hold your hand, dear. She was her mother’s child, fair of face, doted upon and spoiled by her attentions.
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