" Some innate sense of balance told her that something was wrong with these tales. "I'm sure he won't attempt to prevent me," rejoined Thames. For all that, it is folly. It was time to disappear, no more Becks, no more Spaghetti Nights, no more afternoon kisses in the park with John Diedermayer. "You are my prisoner, Jack. Wood," she cried, as the staff fell from his grasp.
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