’ A radiant smile dawned. "I am coming to the point, Joan. ‘Me and the butler didn’t see eye to eye. You may have something to conceal, you may not. “What are you doing here? How dare you come to my rooms!” The man stepped into the middle of the room. It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. She gulped for air merely, for it had been difficult to breathe with his hand almost cutting off the supply to her lungs. Oh! you haven't got the key—then I must have it, I suppose. “Why would she do that? Why does she care? That’s a waste of her time.
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