Her skin prickled. Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. In the subdued light she could not tell whether he was asleep or awake. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety. Wood rest till he brought the villains to justice. Sheppard, gently, "nor do I need any.
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