" With no little effort—for the right words had a way of tumbling back out of reach—he marshalled his phrases, and as he uttered them, closed his eyes to lessen the possibility of a break. " "Accident or not," rejoined Sheppard; "you're no longer pall of mine. ‘Here you, Pottiswick. E. Taber returning. “Want to see the upstairs?” “Sure. " He held out his dry hard hand into which she placed hers.
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