As usual the substantive sister—Prudence—did all the talking for the pair; Angelina, the shadow, offered only her submitting nods. Sensing his discomfort, she stood up and brushed lint off of the hem of her gray miniskirt. ‘No, no, I am convinced your very first theory was right. Loneliness. She had just managed to reach it, grabbing for the handle, when the enemy’s cracked command halted her. “Don’t be too sure of that,” she answered enigmatically. ’ ‘He did, you know,’ grinned Gerald. To-morrow at twelve I'll be with you, Mr.
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