This time his inhalation was furious. Muffled, but there just the same. Although walking to the door was probably a better option and would save her putting half the house in hock, she walked to the bed. The morning had been fraught with trials. But enough time had ticked away.
"In some respects, you have me wrong." She sat down on the unmade bed. "You think I use everything that comes my way. You think I murdered Thomas and Celia."
"You did have her things."
She tilted her chin. "And?"
"And you said you were her."
"Had I known that you and she were lovers, I'd have never opened my mouth. But the thing is, you never said. Not once. So how was I meant to know?" She leaned down and edged off her shoes. "Anyway."
"Wait a minute, you want to do this here? Now?"
Imagine that. James Flint
