Then the long lashes sank demurely over them. Spurlock looked up. Wood fancied he recognised. “When did you look up my mother’s records at the Joliet library, Michelle?” Lucy asked, trying not to incriminate herself by sounding confrontational. At the bottom of the trunk was a large manila envelope, unmarked. But in a moment she believed she understood. He lost control of the machine. Mr. F. "Why, so it is," she said, in mock astonishment.
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