I’ve told them all that was necessary, but I— wanted to ask your pardon—for having made myself a nuisance to you, and for breaking into your rooms—and to thank you—the doctor says you bound up my wound—or I should have bled to death. ‘They weren’t no soldiers. Who were you looking for tonight? One of the émigrés? There were several in there. Her hair had become so matted that Sebastian had sheared it off, which made her the very mirage of a nubile young boy. She imagined herself on a barren 41 plain, post-Apocalypse, convulsing, waiting to die with the cockroach. Somebody to whom she would be necessary, who for days would have to depend upon her for the needs of life.
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