Michelle was on her like a fly, asking her questions about her past foster homes she did her best to avoid, pretending to be swamped every night with sudden reams of homework and unable to be reached by phone. The slim knife was wrested from her grasp, and she was flung backwards, towards the bookcases. Man or woman. He had removed his silk hat, and now sat looking at Ann Veronica over an untouched cup of tea; he sat gloating upon her, trying to catch her eye. “You are neither of you in the least like the ordinary boarding-house young man.
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