’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights. In any place her beauty would have been an uncommon thing. Idleness is the key of beggary, Jack. “Am I hurting you?” She asked. Sheppard, with startling eagerness.
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