‘He lacked moral fibre, did Nicholas. ‘What are you, a nincompoop? She was Nicholas’s wife, of course. At this moment she was staring ahead; and again came the opportunity to study her. ‘Never trust a gun in female hands,’ grumbled Hilary, dropping the nun’s habit and backing to join his friend. Cathy stood in the bedroom hallway in her faded blue bathrobe. The future? He dared not speculate upon that.
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