Sheppard, fervently. Not much to his surprise, Jack Kimble shook his head. Without turning or looking in his direction she leaned forwards, her head supported upon her fingers, her elbows upon her knees. But, on the bursting of that bubble, his hopes vanished with it. She interrupted. The lighting-up pierced the obscurity of the box, and Ramage stopped his urgent flow of words abruptly and sat back. That won’t involve references, as a bank account would—and all that sort of thing.
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