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She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. She hesitated. The warm September sun fell strongly on this part of the grounds, uninterrupted by trees, its light bouncing off the glass in the mansion’s walls. The business of serving gave Gerald a few moment’s grace, for he was dubious about the effect on an elderly female, not in the best of health, of raking up old memories. "You have killed him," cried Winifred in alarm.
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