During the previous night he had been restless; and in the lonely dragging hours his thoughts had raced in an endless circle—action without progress. She donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set. You'll be wasting his time. Footman or some such. On that first occasion, the delay in locating the entrance to the secret passage meant that she had to wait until morning to make her search.
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