Ennison stood still for a moment, swinging his latchkey upon his finger. That is where life takes advantage of youth. So he found her when he came round the corner of the spinney. Gin Lane's the nearest road to the churchyard. “Go down and rescue the rags of my reputation,” she said, smiling. The walls were pristine white and unmarked except for two sconces and a rather colorless Monet poster that had been framed in an expensive oak surround. He was beautiful and perfect, his blue eyes smiling at her.
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