Oh, God!” Rhea sniffed the air through two gaping nostrils that had eroded through her onion skin flesh. She found herself anxious to read more of him, and the next Wednesday she went to the British Museum and hunted first among the half-crown magazines for his essays and then through various scientific quarterlies for his research papers. It was she who had come out from the flat only a few minutes before. Unless it was a jewel or locket of some kind. “It isn’t only the dance,” she said.
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