She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. I cannot let you go. After all, what could happen? He was looking at her very hard and earnestly. But, taking the chisel from Blueskin, Jack quickly forced back the bolt. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. "Well, who'd have thought of finding it in this unexpected way!" "Don't be too sure till you see it," said the widow.
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