"I've lost my wager. "You're inquisitive, young gentleman," replied Jackson, coldly. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. The two friends contrasted strikingly with each other. She enjoyed preparing the evening meals, the smells of potatoes roasting in the oven, the stink of onions in the pan, the crackle of chicken frying. Her fingers opened and the weapon fell from her nerveless grasp. Do not believe it, Madam. She slid the dress off, naked underneath.
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