She breathed deeply. “Gracious!” she exclaimed to herself. It was not human and yet very human, a high pitched wail of hunger that rattled her skull. Their talk drifted to the beauty of music, and they took that up again at tea-time. He read "The Beachcombers" to McClintock that night after coffee; and when he had done, the old trader nodded. "Yes," replied Jack. He was conscious of a quickening of his heartbeat and the familiar rise of adrenalin that sent his senses soaring in anticipation.
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