Very slowly, very fearfully, she turned her head. Five hours later she tiptoed down the hall and paused at the threshold of what they now called his study. He’s been 274 lookin’ a little down lately. Perhaps Gerald was not as clothheaded as he had thought. “You heard no pistol-shot?” “None. “Have you not heard?” she said. The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them.
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