" Sheppard said nothing, but a disdainful smile curled his lips. She imagined herself on a barren 41 plain, post-Apocalypse, convulsing, waiting to die with the cockroach. Nothing. " "You would purchase it at the price of your head," replied Jonathan, knitting his brows. Oh, the beautiful books! Romance, adventure, love stories! She gathered up the books in her arms and cuddled them, as a mother might have cuddled a child. Don’t stand gawping, man. But not once in these ten years had they borne blossom or fruit.
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