At that, the man abruptly turned away and started muttering to himself. “Love the Lord, hate the body. Love the Lord, hate the body with its sins and vices. Chapter One.” He seemed very troubled and started pacing to and fro. Maggie quietly watched, but every muscle in her body became tense. She looked around the room carefully, trying to figure out what to do if this man came at her. He was between her and the only door. Her eyes refocused sharply on him.
This man looked to be in his sixties, perhaps. He was mostly bald, wore glasses, and although he wasn’t obese by any stretch of the imagination, he had a triple chin. He was wearing nondescript street clothes: plain oxfords, khaki slacks, belted high, and an oversized flannel shirt. If you passed him on the street, you would take him for an average pensioner. Maggie figured she was far faster and had much better reflexes. She had a good chance of getting to that door if she had to. What she didn’t know was whether the door was locked.
After several minutes, the man’s agitation abated. His muttering and pacing stopped. He just stood there, lost in his own thought.
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