"Do you see any likeness?" "Don't I," returned Jack, bitterly. ‘I know you, Gerald. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. She felt very cool as he opened the door for her, as if she should have chic sunglasses and stiletto heels on, dark red lipstick. A dozen words, and he saw Enschede as clearly as though he stood hard by in the flesh.
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