She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. “Of course it is okay!” Cathy’s voice rose in volume and in pitch.
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