"Right," said the Master, "I didn't think of her. He was in evening dress: swallow-tailed coat and white tie. She descended down the stairs of the house, sidestepping the refuse from bingedrinking teenagers that was strewn everywhere. It is I who am persecuted by the man who calls himself your husband. ‘That’s why I never told Joan Ibstock that you were still with me when I wrote.
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