It was a face that matched her body, so pure and beautiful that any man would have killed for her. She guessed Jack was having trouble finding the right piece of carving. It was a castoff of Shari’s from her brief obsession with sewing. The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. One swift glance about the room, and a sensation of grim foreboding swept through him. What she actually wanted was the present state of affairs to continue indefinitely. He had been quite right to sit down. " "No fear of that," laughed Kneebone. A familiar figure was making his way towards them. " "I see through your design, Jack," returned the carpenter, gravely; "but I don't like under-hand work.
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