He grabbed her hair viciously and whispered loudly into her tear-streaked face. Warm reality was now so near her she could hear it beating in her ears. A dresser, a washstand, and a clothes press. “Certainly. ’ Hilary Roding groaned, but obediently followed Gerald as he began to make his way through the trees towards the back to a vantage point from where they might examine the rear of Remenham House. She had come to the end of her resources. All right. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. Everything had so far come to pass as the withered old Kanaka woman had foretold. She saw her discarded nun’s habit still on the floor and scooped it up.
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