Mrs. Gosse sneered. Annabel a murderess! It was not possible. A fire enveloped her, a fire which was strangely healing, filling her heart with warmth, blotting out the menace of the world. The inn was a military haunt. ‘I suppose I need not ask to which other soldier you refer. " Spurlock closed his eyes. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness.
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