The wounded man had descended the bridge, and dashed himself against the door beyond it; but, finding it impossible to force his way further, he turned to confront his assailants. "I am Owen Wood, at your service. He had removed his silk hat, and now sat looking at Ann Veronica over an untouched cup of tea; he sat gloating upon her, trying to catch her eye. Mike was draped over the laminate kitchen counter, on the phone as usual. "Then, the story of his death was false. Gerald’s gaze bored into hers.
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