127 “But Mary Lucia, it isn’t what it looks like! She’s an old friend, there’s nothing serious going on!” Without a word, she about-faced and flew down his steps, running fast, jumping four steps at a time. Howard Spurlock. His assistance came too late. She was no longer a confederate in that. They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. She was an Egyptian, from the magical times. And me, I know very much of soldiers. Never mind, I’ve got plenty.
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