She had traversed perhaps three bookshelves, passed across the door that must lead to the hall, turned the corner, and was just about to reach the fireplace when she abruptly became aware that something under her fingers had felt wrong. “Promise me that you’ll never tell another living soul, John. ‘They cannot be worse than mine in English, monsieur. Traps, set with peculiar cunning; she had encountered them everywhere.
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