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She was not paying attention to him. Her vision was floating over the million scattered lights of the city, the waters of the bay, and the distant, dark mysticism of the Southern Atlantic.

"You think I should stop," she suggested, "Settle for less."

"I don't want you to get hurt."

The word "again" was silently amended to that statement.

Jessica laughed. "There is something I want you to see when we get home," she said, and retreated to her room for the rest of the evening.

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