The prostitute’s attack was predictable, typical. The terror faded from her eyes. Shari entered the room in a damp towel, fresh from the shower. "That's a fine tale," said Spurlock. Her head dangled unnaturally for an instant, unleashed from its moorings, then sank to join her husband’s on the floor. She could not part with dignity. John picked it up and put it in her hands.
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