The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. Rummage, my boy, do. The candle was shaking in his hand as Ruth appeared in the doorway. The skies became brilliant; the dry monsoon was setting in. ” She rolled over on her face, and stuffed her fingers in her ears to shut out the rhythm from her mind. You understand me, Charcoal. "I'm my own master now, and I'll do as I please.
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