Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. A hazy face appeared through the fog of sleep, pale and thin and looming. “No. More importantly, she had her wits. From his wallet he brought forth a yellow letter. " "What did I say?" "Only one word," she said, offering her first white lie.
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