This time she tried to kill me with a dagger. She was chic, distinguished, unusual. Get you gone. She was gone. ‘And so you sneak back,’ she threw at him, ‘like the jackal that you are. Once again, he passed his hand over the surface and carefully noted all the obstacles. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. He was nearly wincing. But he was destined to have every tide of feeling awakened—every wound opened.
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