CHAPTER XXI McClintock's island was twelve miles long and eight miles wide, with the shape of an oyster. They looked out over the city, grim and silent now, for it was long past midnight. Berserker, Spurlock rose, head down, and charged. ‘His wife? Pah!’ ‘You’re saying she is not his wife?’ ‘I am saying nothing. She slipped on white thin-soled tennis shoes with no socks, her ankles exposed as Shari had once suggested they be worn. . His literary instincts were reviving.
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