She also knew that he was the type who would not make a single physical overture until she pushed the correct buttons. In spite of his shrieks, the miserable Jew was then dragged into the wellhole, and the rope being tied round his neck, he was launched from the bridge. “More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup. She leaned forward, her chin in her palms, her elbows on her knees, and she set her gaze upon his face and kept it there in dreamy contemplation.
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