His face changed and she saw, with a stab at her heart, the dawning of irritation in his eyes. Then he slapped his hand on his desk and looked up with the air of a man struck by a brilliant idea. “You were really at Moulton House,” she exclaimed penitently. She could not risk going in the door, lest she run into Larry or Cathy drinking a nocturnal glass of milk or Mike raiding the refrigerator for snacks.
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