David Courtlaw. "Jack!" she cried, raising her head. She hoped the lights would become hot enough to melt her into the floor. Lucy acted the part of savoring the end of the meal, but it was difficult. There was a huge desk of heavily carved ebony at one end, and at the centre, a couple of straight-backed chairs stood before a great fireplace at the outer wall, flanked by two bookshelves with casement windows above. She felt her forehead repeatedly break out in a light sweat.
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