Jack Kimble stiffened, looking at his interrogator with wary anger in his face. He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights. By and by she heard the screen door. ” “It’s gone. She could not risk going in the door, lest she run into Larry or Cathy drinking a nocturnal glass of milk or Mike raiding the refrigerator for snacks. “A confusion of motives—that’s what I am!.
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