A corner could hold the promise of a shelf of dainty crystals, volcanic ices of rainbow colors, or figurines of saints sculpted from horn and bone reenacting their martyrdoms on delicate miniature wooden stages. ‘But I have the pistol,’ Gerald pointed out. Wood among them?" asked Jack, eagerly. Jack Kimble. Shamefaced curiosities began to come back into her mind, thinly disguised as literature and art.
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