She tried to compose her thoughts, to think of the last six months, to steep herself in the calm beauty of the surroundings. She addressed him in a tone of puzzlement. Lucy tried not to notice the starched smell, overpowering and powdery. Gosse sagged under the impact, knocking over the card table, and falling to sit, half stunned, the discharged pistol flying from his slackened grasp. Mirrors.
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