” He smiled thinly, not at all happily. ust told a little fibby-wibby, Forty-one, forty-two, forty-three, back behind the chair and ready to start around again. The cartons in the storeroom were what Henry might call an externalization, his way of visualizing all the stuff to which Mr Gray had access. The Eames chair — the one he'd always wanted, the very one — split in two as if it had been hacked by an invisible axe.
'You killed Richie, you coward! You and your friends. He had never taken his eyes off Henry. ' She looks at the brunette. 'I'll try,' he said.
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