She pulled a few strands of her hair from her head to leave with Michelle’s. She proffered her neck towards him. But I was sorry for poor Jack—as I am still, and hoped he would mend. There was nothing in his manner to suggest the misery of the preceding night. Perhaps that sealed letter was a form of confession, and thus relieved him on that score. She descended down the stairs of the house, sidestepping the refuse from bingedrinking teenagers that was strewn everywhere. Making her couch upon a heap of hay, she sank at once into a deep and refreshing slumber.
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