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It was apparent, and then it faded into the quality of an inevitable necessity. “Perhaps you will not object to answering one for me. "The feeling is dead within my breast. And one must—some of it must slip through one’s fingers. “A man who does not touch his wife, who ignores his wife, what kind of man is he? I am not sick any more. After the sights he would have to twiddle his thumbs until the joints cracked. Not a moment is to be lost. ’ Kimble nodded. The carpenter did not hesitate a moment. “More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup. “Please forgive me—for one moment,” she sobbed.
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