And ever after it struck him that her backward smile as she disappeared was charged with some special significance. “I murder people, John. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you. There is light enough from the sun,’ she said, relieved. “Are you cold?” He asked her, cocking his head to one side like a puppy, so close that the heat of his words warmed her cheek.
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