“Fancy stabbing a man for jealousy!” she thought. A couple of gilt straight-backed chairs only. There was scant social life on the Sha-mien aside from masculine foregatherings, little that interested him. “I’m so glad you’re here, Peter,” she said. They were a dull grey, but the dark frizzed hair that framed her face was attractive. I did not have to dig deep in my imagination to create the status-obsessed suburban environment of Lucy’s modern milieu. I should have thought my note cleared up everything. Knew something was up.
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