Over the sea of heads arose a black and dismal object. I love you—unendurably. “I’d never have a day of peace again, John. He does not look the criminal. I kicked the living shit out of him. And, if I'd my own way, I'd drown 'em all like a litter o' puppies. I wonder if a man can quite understand that passionate feeling? It is quite a passionate feeling. He met her eyes with his fiery black gaze. ‘That’s just it. CHAPTER XII. Mercifully, John had been sick for two of the three days of Thanksgiving week, giving her reprieve from both his presence and the machinations of Katy Pfister, who was always less active on days when he was not around.
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