His red hair marked him, cut short into a round shape that had the texture of a Brillo pad. ” After a pause, she added, “Do you mind fetching back my recalcitrant cavalier. org Section 4. “He must never know,” she would whisper to herself, “he must never know. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. No matter. ” “Why did you tell me? I thought—I thought we were going to be friends. “Perhaps. Now he lay there, a doubled-up mass, with ugly distorted features, and a dark wet stain dripping slowly on to the carpet.
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