She could feel Martin’s eyes boring into her as she entered the room, her own personal Farhat. She had adored the stupid thing, and kept it in her pocket for about ten years. It was still so dark, that nothing could be distinguished except the heavy masses of timber by which the premises were surrounded; but as they advanced, lights were visible in some of the windows. “Hey you,” he said affectionately. But Darrell averted his head.
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