"Extinguish the light," cried Jack; "turn to the left. He grabbed her wrist and prised the weapon from her fingers, ignoring her other hand that clawed at his to try to retain the trophy. She fought a compulsive urge to yank his shirt free. Straitened circumstances would not have mattered; a mother would have managed somehow. Practically all. She throws a sort of spell over us all. ’ He sighed.
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