She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. She liked to cook even though normal food was not nourishing to her. The room behind was another small antechamber, presumably linking the back rooms. ‘Coward,’ she threw at him, brandishing the sword. And grasping the thick iron rod, she pushed with all her force against it, while Jack seconded her efforts from within. .
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