‘I’ve finished me report, sir,’ Trodger said aggrievedly. She sat, crouched together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that supported the pig’s skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann Veronica’s face, and let herself go. ’ She bit her lip, and then turning her face away, emitted another sigh. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town.
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