F. It was an odd room, used principally for the reception of guests and visiting dignitaries, packed from end to end with ill-assorted sofas and padded chairs. Her fingers clutched the side of the door as though to steady herself. ‘What, and miss getting myself murdered?’ ‘She said she wouldn’t murder you. “Why not? Isn’t the whole thing a lie? Isn’t her reputation, this husband of hers, the ‘Alcide’ business, isn’t it all a cursed juggle? She hasn’t the right to do it. If so I shall have to leave.
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