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ToC In an incredibly short space of time,—for her anxiety lent wings to her feet,— Mrs. “Lucy, have you noticed that I don’t even own a dog?” He spoke into her hair. His name was Bartolomeo di Alberti. Tell him the truth, Annabel. She donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set.
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