His attitude toward her was purely intellectual, free of any sentimentality, utterly selfish. Why, then, did he touch it? As he climbed heavily into his chair, she was able to note the little beads of sweat under the cracked nether lip. She entered quietly and padded up to her shared bedroom. At this juncture, and just as a cuckoo-clock in the corner struck sis, Jack Sheppard walked into the room, with the packing-case under his arm. "If you thought that, why did you give me this job?"—his voice faint and thick.
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