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Jean Wilson could not rid herself of the feeling that they were being unduly persecuted. She studied her young husband of five weeks who stood on the opposite side of the bed watching as he removed his shirt and trousers to reveal his lanky frame, a tender emotion of deep affection filling her. They had done nothing … absolutely nothing, she reasoned incredulously as she unzipped and stepped out of the maid’s black, petite uniform that the Keeles insisted she wear. Yet, there they were, serving a ridiculous probationary period, and all because of a miserably decrepit judge …
“It could be worse, Honey,” her husband spoke assuagely, interrupting her thoughts, the warm smile brightening his sharp-angled, boyish features meant to lessen the oppression that had been with her since Judge McGraw had sentenced them earlier that day. “So, we didn’t know anything about the damned grass Nick had … they could still have thrown the book at us. Ignorance is no excuse, you know … and I’m thinking that if it hadn’t been for Chief Lannigan and Max Keele … well, we’d both be taking a nice hike …”
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.