The walls were pristine white and unmarked except for two sconces and a rather colorless Monet poster that had been framed in an expensive oak surround. Everett’s gaze dropped to the papers in his hand. The poor boy, imagining things! "That's want of substantial food. ‘What in God’s name do you think you’re playing at?’ ‘Let me alone, man,’ Gerald muttered under his breath. “Damned Rascal!” he said.
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