“I’m next, Mr. McClintock, without comment, accepted the hand. The pistol was lowered slightly. She receded into the entryway, opening her palm and gesturing as if there were an imaginary red carpet rolled out for visitors. He blushed, too, spiritually, as it were. “Just forget it, Lucy! Keep your secrets to yourself!” He stomped out, slamming the heavily paneled oak door. You will find it somewhere in that book. And that would spoil it.
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