Lucy thought of a song that she had not been able to get out of her head since the Fifties. “I have come for an explanation,” she said. You are my Sir Galahad, so faithful and true that it is a wonder you exist. The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket. ” “You mean—you think——” “Hush! I think that he was concealed in my room, and Annabel and he met there. He made it brief.
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