” Lucy looked at the small shelf which was jammed with thick paperbacks by every major horror novelist of the twentieth century. Everything seemed designed to unhinge the mind and make the cat wretched. ” “You are not yourself to-night, Courtlaw,” Ennison said. Lucy sighed. Kneebone, who began to feel sleepy, wound it up, and snuffed the candles. She lifted her shoulders in an eloquent shrug. She went to the basement and shed her sodden coat and scarf, tossing them into her favorite modern appliance, the electric dryer.
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