She wormed her way past Sebastian, glanced at her mother’s blackened face, her obscenely naked body bulging with yellow and black buboes under the arms and in the groin that oozed stinking fluid. They came teeming distressfully through her aching brain: “A man can kick, his skirts don’t tear; A man scores always, everywhere. “Stop!” He ran towards her. God bless you, Auntie! I'll go into the mills and make pulp with my bare hands, if you want me to.
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