She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. The white haze of poison clouded her eyes. It came to her that to marry any one but Capes was impossible. Perhaps that sealed letter was a form of confession, and thus relieved him on that score. “So I see that you have become content with your hardscrabble existence, your week-to-week survival, your Martin Chen!” “Who?” “Your limp-wristed lover!” “Um. Now, will you stand aside?" "I won't," answered Jack, obstinately. “I wish I didn’t swear.
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