There were a few loose, broken fragments of rock to reckon with upon the ledges, and one place where hands did as much work as toes. Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror. She read the policeman’s rueful glance when she caught his refection in his rearview mirror. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. The curve of his shoulders, the very angle of his feet, expressed relief at her apparent obedience.
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