He carried her into his bedroom as she unfastened the tiny white buttons of his shirt. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. Not the explosive vigour of the north-born, but that which would quietly meet physical hardships and bear them triumphantly. '" "Slave?" echoed Jack. This was occasioned by Jonathan Wild, who was seen to mount his horse and join the train. "What motive have you for concealment?" he demanded. ’ He bowed and indicated the open door at the back of the hall. . There was no one else in the doorway. I’ve made up my mind. “Concern me!” she repeated fiercely. 95 The officer showed her into the sleepy suburban police station, a hub of inactivity on Sunday night except for herself and a slightly drunk woman who had been brought in for DUI. And what was singular she did not recount to the doctor that morning's adventure.
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