The sounds of the seashore infiltrated her dreams as she floated in heavenly bliss of sleep. It was not your fault you failed. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. If and when Ray was ever found, she would be long gone and they would be unable to explain what had happened to him. Twenty guineas, mind. It keeps dangling in front of my eyes.
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