"All right. Jack dropped the knife, and walked sullenly aside. The books would be soaked and ruined in the rain anyway through the thin skin of the pack. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. “Oh. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. In a convent, you understand, one is like a servant, even if one is a lady. Don’t take my word for it though. I'm going through his pockets.
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