“Can’t stop, thanks,” he answered. “Well?” “I don’t care a rap for all these things. The months that followed September spiraled downward. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. ” “Impudent beggars,” Sydney growled. ‘It is not easy. Perhaps, as you say, I do not really care—but I cannot do it. She must weigh her situation. Wood, and you'll find that I've spoken the truth.
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