She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. ’ ‘Don’t talk soft,’ begged Martha. I did all for the best, I'm sure. At the Palazzo she had been confined to her own sunny windowed quarters most of the time, but she had the entire run of the inside of the manor. “Yes, I have heard of him, and I know him by sight,” he admitted. Ennison’s manner was certainly not one of a willing host. But before he could say anything, the vehicle rolled to a halt. For a short time they allowed me to share the warmth of their lives.
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