Full as she was of him, it felt good to shower her kill out of her hair. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. There, in a little tea and sweetstuff shop, she bought and consumed slowly and absent-mindedly the insufficient nourishment that is natural to her sex on such occasions. ’ He laughed. She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork. Hopefully. The attempt was unsuccessful. He had bled everywhere, but she had struck when the opportunity was ripe. Sheppard. She glared at him with satisfaction.
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