The door crashed back against the wall inside and both men hurtled into the room, weapons at the ready—and stopped dead. “To your room!” Michelle cowered, her face flushed with anger. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. I am not afraid that you may try to make love to me. The doors of several of the wards were thrown open for these parties, and as Jack passed, he could not help glancing at the wretched inmates.
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