He would talk to Spurlock, but from the bench; as a judge, not as a chagrined lover. ‘You are a born rebel, ma’am, and I can see now where she gets it from. Her head dangled unnaturally for an instant, unleashed from its moorings, then sank to join her husband’s on the floor. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind.
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