” “Annabel knew where I lived,” Anna continued slowly. They could not have called it a fatal motor accident if he had not been dead. With his black and gray hair, his gray-green eyes were a striking contrast and he looked even younger, as if he had been frozen at age thirty-three. At this time of day the priest would be at his apartments in Brewer Street, a short walk away from Golden Square which the building overlooked. She attacked his hair resolutely. This species of madness cannot properly be attributed to his illness, though its accent might be.
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