His analytical bent saved him many times, though he was not sensitive to this. ’ He glanced about and saw his quarry holding court at one end of the vast mirrored chamber. The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face. ” “In Paris, I think,” Ennison answered. ” Ennison shrugged his shoulders. After an hour of waiting, she slammed her bedroom door and he returned to his basement. Her hair, once red, faded to a thin gray that she kept cut into a practical short bob.
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