She shattered the edifice he was building up of himself as a devoted lover, waiting only his chance to win her from a hopeless and consuming passion. Of course he hadn't played the game wisely. Amid a litter of nails without heads, screws without worms, and locks without wards, lay a glue-pot and an oilstone, two articles which their owner was wont to term "his right hand and his left. ‘The credentials, milor’,’ he ventured. ‘We needn’t murder Lucia. She had seen for herself right up in the bedroom window with her binoculars when Joanie was gone shopping one night, right with her own eyes.
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