He was a bad dog; he knew it perfectly; but where there was laughter, there was hope. Diane Vorsack was a disaster waiting for a place to happen, with a heartily established dislike for the Beck clan. Her tone was hoarse with passion. He glanced up at the coachman. He left the room, presumably to sleep elsewhere, but the only other room with a fire was the servant’s quarters. She listened with dumb fear in her eyes.
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