‘Oh, my God, she’s gone!’ Wrenching his hand from his friend’s slackened grasp, he darted for the door, Roding behind him. ’ ‘You mean Valade? Certainly not. As soon as he had read it, he let it fall from his grasp. The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods. Ah, Thierry and Poussaint, if my memory serves me.
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