She danced with two others. “Is that okay with you? To go down to the station with him?” “I’ll go with him, Larry. Gerald shook his head. ‘But my poor Jacques is wounded and—’ ‘All taken care of,’ interrupted Hilary. Roused by the bell tolling for evening service, Jack left the house. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. Anybody in pain had only to call to him. She threw him his car keys.
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