“Round midnight, I think. “Mary!” He whispered loudly. ‘Peste,’ she wailed, as Emile dropped to the floor, ducking down. She donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set. You are—or rather you were——” he corrected himself with an unpleasant little laugh, “Miss Pellissier, eh?” A little sensation followed upon his words.
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