1. The Enschede Bible—the one out of which she read—had been strangely mutilated. There was no sense in creating further difficulties for herself by arguing with the sergeant over her identity. " CHAPTER XVIII. She sat on the edge of the bed overwhelmed, the roses cradled in her arms. “Let’s go. But don't thank me; thank Miss Enschede. CHAPTER XV. The old lady’s face was stiff with anger. She was weeping now. The stench is everywhere. A dull light shone through the open window blinds and softened the room with parchment yellowness. “Nigel, don’t you understand.
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