And I’ll have that story off you as we journey back to town. She held up the lamp. “But your hair,” he gasped. “Dyed!” “And your figure?” “One’s corsetière arranges that. After all, what can it matter? It was just to make sure. She thought of the smiles she would gather when she brought forth his first grandson. A fever of shame ran through her being. He made his speech a little elaborately. “The twins were left with his sister, Cris. ’ ‘Indeed? Interesting. It would have been better had he succeeded in murdering her, she thought. Only a book detective could dope this out. There was a photo of her that looked exactly like you.
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