" "I don't require it," returned Sheppard. ’ 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 tugged at the overly large hooded sweatshirt, which she unzipped and let fall to the ground. . But here the resemblance stopped. " "Poor Jack!" exclaimed Thames. It began to rain, a cold sweat of precipitation that was more sickly than refreshing. " "Won't you go?" cried Jack passionately.
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