“Why should one pretend?” she whispered. ” She glared at Sebastian over the drawing table where she was sketching in chalk, then over at the fifteen year old boy who was asleep in a disheveled pile of rushes in the corner. My foster mother, Janine, wasn’t much fatter. Ann Veronica thought the whole affair rather jolly. They smelled good, but they no longer smelled like food. Yet the thing hidden within her called and called. He’s nice. . She looked at him curiously. She attacked his hair resolutely. And immeasurable was the calm evolved from this knowledge.
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