She guessed Jack was having trouble finding the right piece of carving. She touched bow to strings, playing a fifth. She thought of the marvellous beauty of skin, and all the delightfulness of living texture. “Act three. She didn’t choose her man. The future was not so black. It hadn’t even been called Kentucky back then when the Shawnee still hunted deer over mossy hills and the smoke from their fires could still inspire terror. Mrs.
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