The chair was torture. ’ Jack blinked. ’ She released the pistol which lay in her lap and gestured expressively with her hands. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. ‘I feared as much. “So, how’d it go?” Lucy sighed. What do you think, Annabel?” “I don’t think they would,” she admitted.
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