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She had eaten them, murdered them routinely, and yet he loved her still. Wood," observed Jackson, in a slightly-sarcastic tone. The cultivated indifference, which was part of the armour of his little world fell away from him. The clerk at the Raffles Hotel had accorded her but scant interest. She took a shower after a particularly harsh volleyball debacle only to find that her locker had been picked and her outfit of the day, gray sweatpants and a shapeless pink sweater, were gone. Opening the door he then stepped into a dark narrow passage leading, as he was well aware, to the chapel. You can borrow any of my outfits anytime, you know.
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