They did not care— servant or master, it meant nothing. ” “To a friend?” “To lodgings—alone. Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once. \" She handed the ticket seller, a boy that looked to be all of eighteen years old, murder money that she had stolen from Dawn Plote's dead son, five dollars.
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