Each arm of the blouse had the faintest of rings around the elbow, a stain that looked familiar. ‘I’m not going to arrest you, young Jack—yet. We have so much to be thankful for. She went on her way now no longer dreaming and appreciative, but disturbed and unwillingly observant behind her mask of serene contentment. ‘Kill him? Oh. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave.
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