As she averted her gaze, a terrible idea crossed her. Nothing, however, could be discerned, except the crumbling brickwork. “John,” she said, “I can spare you that question. “I just wanted you to see that the time will come when I must leave you, and the time is coming soon. They sat down, McClintock reaching for a lump of sugar which he began munching. Happy Thanksgiving. Her eyes were wide and bright.
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