Lucy could sense her mental resolution to nip Michelle’s burgeoning obsession with the occult in the bud. Monsieur Valade heaved a gusty sigh, and Gerald, with heavy diplomacy and a forced heartiness of manner, turned the subject. The ragged edge. She was civil, but she was obviously impatient to know his errand. Old saltwater was right. Picked up the photograph, looked at it, handed it back, and never batted an eye! The act was as clear as daylight, but the motive was as profoundly mysterious as the race itself. She answered him almost coldly.
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