“And I have dragged you all over here for nothing,” she murmured. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. Only Leonardo, and then Jack, had shown her that she might be admired. Shari’s head poked out of the bathroom where she had been preoccupied with preparations for her morning shower. I picked up her handkerchief on the floor. She had asked to borrow his pencil out of dire necessity.
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