Pramlay lived for amenities and the mellowed surfaces of things. Seven hundred forty-two dollars and eighty-one cents, the sum total of her money in the world that she hid in a filigreed cigar box shelved behind her schoolbooks. For that matter, my future be damned. Had he but known it, his outburst had done him no harm in the major’s eyes. I deemed it more prudent to send him to the Dark House than to bring him here, in case of any search after him by his adoptive father—the carpenter Wood.
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