Um. Usually his charges bored him with their interrogative chatter, for he knew that his information more often than not went into one ear and out of the other. Lucy sat in the back seat as the trio sped through intersections in the old sedan. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. He’ll survive. The doctor smoked his pipe thoughtfully. He was silent. Poe is all right, if you don't mind nightmares. Father— dead.
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