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Jack Kimble stiffened, looking at his interrogator with wary anger in his face. I fight. ” She threw away the end of her cigarette. Ramage,” she said, sharply, “I have to make it plain to you. ” She played with her hair. If, when he returned, he blew out the light, she would go to bed; but if the light burned on for any length of time, she would go silently to the study curtain to learn if his agony was still upon him. If that's true, she's not long for this world.
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