She twanged the catgut under her fingers. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. She felt very cool as he opened the door for her, as if she should have chic sunglasses and stiletto heels on, dark red lipstick. “Don’t be too sure of that,” she answered enigmatically. Sheppard raised her eyes, and fixed them upon her interrogator.
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