‘I should not dream of forcing my attentions on you. With a cry of distress, she dropped the pistol and flew after him, racing past him to the door. . ” Michelle said, tossing her glossy ponytail defiantly. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. In the subdued light she could not tell whether he was asleep or awake. She advanced, stabbing at him.
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