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been far less prone to scowls. She had not smiled often, even then; she had kept mostly to herself as she went about her housekeeping duties. But she had possessed, at least, a pleasant air. For the first few weeks, Carter had barely noticed that she was in the house. By the fifth week, he had become aware of her presence in an abstracted, affectionate sort of way. By the seventh, he’d found himself looking forward to their brief encounters—a polite passing in the halls, the occasional meal together. By the time Catherine had been in the house for three months, he had fallen hopelessly in love with her. At first he had refused to accept it. The girl was half his age, his own dear wife had been gone for only four years, and he was making progress in his work—the separation of uranium isotopes—which a love affair could serve only to slow down. But the heart was not logical. Once set upon a course, no amount of rational argument could dissuade it. Finally he had decided to bring the matter to a resolution. He had gathered his courage and proposed. Catherine, in accepting, had made him the happiest man on earth. But soon after had come the ridge. He first saw the ridge appear between her eyes when he had suggested that they find another cleaning woman to hire. She had been about to become his wife; it had never occurred to him that she would want to continue in her capacity as housekeeper. But the ridge had shown up and she had thought hard for five silent minutes. Then she had announced that she didn’t know what she would do with herself if he hired someone else to take her job, and she’d really rather he didn’t. He had capitulated without argument—he could never argue with her—and had then watched, baffled but silent, as she did less housework with every passing month. Who knew how her mind worked? Not he. But the ridge meant trouble; he knew that much. The ridge was also there when she had told him out of the blue, the previous year, that she wanted to go to work for the Federal Shipbuilding Company in Kearny, New Jersey. She felt guilty for doing nothing, she said, lazing around the house all day while the country slogged off to war. She wanted to manufacture ball bearings like the other women, tossing in her own

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A Gathering of Spies - Excerpt  

A BEAUTIFUL NAZI SPY AND AN ENIGMATIC BRITISH DOUBLE AGENT MATCH WITS IN THIS GRIPPING WORLD WAR II THRILLER Gorgeous, cunning, and lethal,...

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