Hours to Kill, стр. 41
mulled that over, although her mother was calling her impatiently. “Who’s we?”
Margaret smiled at her from the bed. It was not quite over yet, and there would be a period of trouble for Cornelia, but just at the moment she felt so sure and serene that it was all she could do not to stretch like a cat. “Me and my friend Mr. Kincaid,” she said.