Part 7
That was two days before Christmas Eve. ‘He prayeth best who loveth best—all things both great
and small. “His love-making,” she remarked, “struck me as unconvincing. But they found him on the veranda when they returned from McClintock's that
evening. Or,
if you must take off my clothes, don't dash cold water on my head. ” She took the blue box
from her hoodie and held it towards him. Her two sticks were bare and
brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. He had hired not one but two engineers
to record the event, subsidized entirely out of his own
meager pocket. “You are magnificent,” she said, “but the steel of your truth is a little
oversharpened. Things happen out this way. Acquainted with every part of the jail, Jack well knew that his only chance of
effecting an escape must be by the roof.
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