She flew up from her stool and faced the door. She shrugged her shoulders. "Why, so it is," she said, in mock astonishment. “Believe me, I know. " "Probably not. What were you doing at Remenham House? I can’t puzzle that bit out. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided. “Come on in, Michelle. The door was fastened by a catch and a latch with an inside key, to which at night a chain and two bolts were added. All she had found was the love of this dog.
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