Earles declared. “I wonder which of us is right,” she said. Jack's complexion was that of a gipsy; Darrell's as fresh and bright as a rose. Sebastian's arms were about her, his fists pumping her stomach as she coughed forth saltwater from her belly and lungs. He—In fact, he—he locked me in my room. She pulled her chair with a mild creak and marched towards the stair.
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