Her bald head had swollen on her shoulders, puffy with fresh blood that ringed her mouth. Mary Remenham had passed on her every feature to the daughter whose advent had taken her from this world. I saw someone in there whom I have always hoped that I should never meet again. ’ ‘Yes, a pretty theory, Lucy,’ Gerald said evenly, ‘but for one thing. Her soft brown eyes, inherited from Larry, warmed an already pretty face. Come up stairs, and take a glass of brandy. They are the only happy women in the Orient.
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