" "Who cares if we do?" retorted Sheppard, with a look of defiance. I bear the marks of some of them about me still," he continued, taking off his wig, and laying bare a bald skull, covered with cicatrices and plates of silver. “I did not,” Anna answered. She dared not look directly at him, her head obscured by a gray hoodie, she had the slumped appearance of an androgynous adolescent. “Yes,” she said at last, “it is firm and affectionate.
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