She felt him sometimes at night as he called to her in her dreams. I deemed it more prudent to send him to the Dark House than to bring him here, in case of any search after him by his adoptive father—the carpenter Wood. Teenagers buzzed about her newly discovered talent for the violin in the same sentences as they gossiped about her torrid police scandal and a lost mother who remained in the deep shadows of murder mystery. . . There stepped forth a tall brown man. Then the foremost bowed and passed on. Cautiously stepping outside, he looked up towards the terrace. Paris is not the place for two young girls.
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