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“Far be it from me to keep a woman from her book. That could become dangerous.”
“I have a cat,” he blurted out. “A chartreux. They chirp instead of meow. His name is Doyle.”
“Caspar, you know what I’m asking, please don’t make me kill you.”
Never an avid reader before, she pulled herself out of depression by escaping into the other worlds books offered.
