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McClintock stared into the bowl of his pipe and Spurlock into his coffee cup. The sky beyond was a surreal color of pink that reminded her of the windows she had once been entranced by at the castle chapel, their leaden lines depicting old religious stories and sufferings. And when Manning was not about the thing seemed simple enough. She dragged the broken bottle across her carotid artery, creating an inch-deep gash upon her throat. ‘Kimble, you shouldn’t be here. Why had Ruth married him? A penniless outcast, for she must have known he was that.
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