” “In the present case,” Drummond remarked, glancing across the room, “Cheveney wouldn’t permit it. Michelle took out a Marlboro Light 100 from a secret stash on the inside of her pink neoprene jacket. ” She propped herself up on the massive oaken post of the bed, feeling the paralysis tingle her legs as it left them ever so slowly. It was Blueskin. And yet, often when alone, he wondered: had McClintock been wrong, or had she ceased to care in that way? The possibility that she no longer cared should have filled him with unalloyed happiness, whereas it depressed him, cut the natural vanity of youth into shreds and tatters.
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