Shari entered the room in a damp towel, fresh from the shower. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. ‘All these soldiers,’ she complained, adding with a sweep of one arm at the major’s dress, ‘all of them in red as you. Lucy looked down, noticing that Michelle had left her shoes in the entryway. That held his thought as the magnet holds the needle, inescapably. She had found the mausoleum underneath a broken monument.
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