‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. "Crime upon crime. "Won't you take these?" For a space he merely stared at her, perhaps wondering if she were real. Particles of bullet were embedded in Rhea’s large arm as she swung across the stones in her donated legs. "Won't be under an obligation. ” She threw away the end of her cigarette. It reminded her of one of the old tales her mother Marina had told her about a sculptor named Farhat. ‘Very well, never mind.
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