You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. Come, make yourself scarce. She put a hand to the lad’s cold cheek and choked on a sob. The rest of the crowd followed suit with weak laughter. Where can I have heard it!" "Devil knows," rejoined Blueskin. She had found it in 1988, the year of the stock market crash. She breathed deeply of the starch of his shirt. She turned the gas up in her little sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair.
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