I think I asked if I could eat lunch with her and Trisha Deere one day and she said there was no room at the table. ‘What do you do here?’ demanded the young lady, moving to meet him. Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. “Very well,” he said, “I will go. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. As Spurlock called her name, she paused and turned. ‘Sleeping like a baby, he is.
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