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’ ‘I don’t even know your granddaughter, ma’am. ‘I thought—I thought I saw my—my husband. He’s got a past as dark as yours, did you know that?” Lucy was aware of the many circles of Hell that Mike had passed through before getting lucky and being adopted by the Becks. She was lovely, painted like the porcelain doll he had always wanted her to be. She entered the last room, his bedroom. And Ritter’s, too, was very amusing and foreign and discreet; a little rambling room with a number of small tables, with red electric light shades and flowers. “It’s Ennison, isn’t it?” he exclaimed.
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