More than this, it would serve to mitigate her own abysmal loneliness to pool it temporarily with his. Open the window, Thames, and call for assistance. She set her fingers in the hair and tugged, drawing him to a sitting posture and stooping so that her eyes would be on the level with his when he awoke. By the time she arrived at the Beck’s doorstep, the morning was risen. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones.
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