Sheppard remained dissolved in tears. She untucked his starched shirt, running her hands along his smooth torso and underneath his arms. "Vat ish it, Mishter Vild?" inquired Mendez. He was certain that those lips of hers had never known the natural and pardonable simper of youth. She felt a new warmth in her blood, a strange sense of elation crept over her. He divorced her.
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