Thames sat with Winifred's hand clasped in his own, and commenced a recital of his adventures, which may be briefly told. She attacked his hair resolutely. Sheila was often a terror to her husband Mark, who seemed afraid of her. ‘How do you know?’ ‘Exactly,’ pounced Roding bitterly. She screamed as she saw that their throats had been ripped out and their dead eyes bulged with horror as their heads lolled from mere strings of sinew and flesh. In truth, she had been quite glad to lose the argument about remaining while the bullet was dug out of Jack’s side. There’s no family uniting instinct, anyhow; it’s habit and sentiment and material convenience hold families together after adolescence.
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