Time was moving so fast, she could no longer count the days since Gosse had come to her with his preposterous suggestion at the Coq d’Or, where they were staying and where he had robbed her and left her and Martha to their fate. “Lucy, have you noticed that I don’t even own a dog?” He spoke into her hair. Wood, with a look meant to reduce her supposed rival to the dust. Bah! She does not know me very well, and you—not at all. She barely heard a word that Martin or Brown said, until Martin’s voice chimed.
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