\" Shari wanted to own her own hair salon as her mother Cathy had always wanted to. Shotbolt nodded in token of acquiescence, and emitted an odd guttural sound. He reached the top floor and ran down the corridor to the little dressing room at the end where he had lost her before. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. She found herself alone in the train asking herself what she must do next, and trying not to think of herself as cut off from home or any refuge whatever from the world she had resolved to face. CHAPTER VIII. Little things, almost impalpable, had happened to justify that doubt; something in his manner had belied his words. The highest form of knowledge was magic: the priesthood. "Nobody shall," cried Mr.
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