\" Diane Vorsack chirped with the grin of a Cheshire Cat, extending her right hand in greeting. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. ” “I wonder,” he said, a trifle irrelevantly, “what the future has in store for you. His hair is oddly streaked with gray —I might say a dishonourable gray. Not if I read her aright. I had no idea you were not the happiest girl. ’ ‘You may arrest me later.
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