“But, my dear!” said Ann Veronica’s aunt. ‘Too late by the time I realised to what a dunderhead I’d pledged my friendship. During this movement, Jack grasped the barrel of his pistol, held in his breath, and motioned to Blueskin, who bared a long knife, to keep still. She imagined descending the stairs, hearing Mike’s uproarious laughter as she peeked around a vacant corner with a lump in her throat. Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself.
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