The Dead in Their Vaulted Arches (Flavia de Luce, #6)

by Alan Bradley

me such a glare! Feely had the knack of being able to screw one side of her face into a witchlike horror while keeping the other as sweet and demure as any maiden from Tennyson. It was, perhaps, the one thing I envied her.

before the Inspector stopped and turned to me. “I’m very sorry about your mother, Flavia. I can’t even begin to imagine how you must feel.” At least the man had the sense to admit it.

without being seen. It was easy enough to see why God, having called the dry land “Earth” and the gathering together of the waters “the Seas,” saw that it was good. I could picture