E. “So you’d best open your coffers. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. ‘And if not her, for she is dead, then me. ‘Forgive my not rising to greet you,’ she said, holding out a claw-like hand. At this gate two paths meet. Not that he deliberately courted danger; it was rather the searcher, seeking analysis, the why and wherefore of this or that invading emotion.
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