“No, I’m fine. One glance through the window at that picturesque head had been sufficient. The tall, blond boys, right?” “That’s them. She had found it in 1988, the year of the stock market crash. ” Anna moved softly to the window, and threw up the sash. The knots and broken pale that made the garden-fence scalable, and gave access to the fields behind, were still to be traced.
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