She slipped on white thin-soled tennis shoes with no socks, her ankles exposed as Shari had once suggested they be worn. "You are out betimes this morning, Mr. Doesn’t matter a bit to me. She drew a chair to the window and stared at the splendour of the tropical night. She held it down with the poker, looking nervously over her shoulder. ‘You have come to me in place of Gérard? But how is it you will help me?’ ‘That’s all right and tight. No tricks would serve.
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