Lucy sprinted to one side to avoid the crash and grabbed at Rhea’s solitary patch of yellow hair, which ripped out loosely in one decayed piece like strands of rotten corn silk. "Sir Cecil is no more. ” Annabel shrugged her shoulders. ’ ‘There is no need for this,’ he ventured mildly, and lifted his finger to show his own pistol was not cocked. ‘Not in the open street. .
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