‘Where’s the sense in running away?’ ‘Doesn’t trust me,’ Gerald said briefly. He lived on the seventh floor behind a winding set of hallways that towered over her in their grayness. After all, his was a pleasant face, and a pleasant voice, and very likely Annabel had behaved badly. In a tall glass the rind of a Syrian orange was arranged in spiral form. Brown strode to center stage and Lucy quieted the instruments with a gesture.
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