"Ah!" she screamed, seeing the uplifted weapon in Sheppard's hand, "don't hurt Thames—don't, dear Jack! If you want to kill somebody, kill me, not him. Now he thought she was so foolish that she knew only one stroke. ” True summer descended like a sticky fever upon August’s arrival, bringing with it miasmas of humidity that seemed to hang from the trees like mucus. What gave the puzzling twist to an ordinary situation was her manner: she was guileless.
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