"Not that I know of," replied the carpenter, who had in some degree recovered his confidence. She would become defensive—what she did would be the thing that mattered. Let me see now. “But you’re wrong. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. There's good stuff in him, if one could find the way to dig it out. ” “Is that bad?” A shade of concern deepened on Shari’s face.
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