He flipped the television on. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. Your sister! Great God, how like she is to what you were!” Annabel looked around her nervously. "How goes it?" he began, heartily. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. She arrived about nine o’clock the next evening in a state of tremulous enthusiasm.
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