Shy, grateful in her loneliness for this unexpected attention, she had listened. They were loath to admit to the public that the case would be closed in a few years for sheer lack of forensic evidence. It was long and narrow, a well-lit, wellventilated, quiet gallery of small tables and sinks, pervaded by a thin smell of methylated spirit and of a mitigated and sterilized organic decay. Inside was the blue stone she had lost in the 1800’s. " The lack of a family album for some reason put a little ache in her heart. “Every one.
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