" "We'll be waiting for you. ’ Kimble’s widening gaze told its own tale, but still he kept his fingers on the handle of the door. I have found you. There was no one at home, and I was coming away when I saw that the door was open. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. Another picture slid across her vision. Gossip was the driving force in Sheila’s existence. She closed her eyes and felt again an echo of the swamping warmth that had attacked her when his lips met hers.
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