“She found my collection of witchcraft books under my bed and threw them away. I want you. But I'll be more lenient, and content myself with merely chastising you, on condition—" "You may do as you please, master," interrupted Jack, thrusting his hand into his pocket, as if in search of the knife; "but I wouldn't advise you to lay hands on me again. Fate! You are so frank so splendid! “I’m taking this calmly now,” he said, almost as if he apologized, “because I’m a little stunned. "I don't believe McClintock would have gone into convulsions at the sight of it. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade.
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