" "No—no," laughed Jack. The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper. The world isn't real yet; she hasn't comparisons by which to govern her acts. I want you to be my lover. He caressed her tenderly, with no trace of the Sebastian who had previously knocked her off her feet with a slap across the mouth.
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