There was something very wrong. “John! Welcome! Happy Thanksgiving!” Cathy cried, ushering him deeper into the house. The practice has been common for thousands of years. The boy’s besotted. And Mother trusted him. The detective backed out slowly and closed the door without sound. It was he who saw them first coming down the room—Annabel in a wonderful white satin gown in front, and Sir John stiff, unbending, disapproving, bringing up the rear.
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