Shari entered the room in a damp towel, fresh from the shower. “Let go!” she gasped at him, a blaze of anger. She did not twitch. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. In this way, they reached Holborn Bridge. A sob was strangled in her throat. “I have a special surprise for you, Lucia.
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