Your mother, for what it’s worth to you—for there’s nothing for you here, by God!—was the woman I chose for Nicholas. Clarice was from Lombardy, fair-haired and light skinned. “I cut off his right hand pinky with his own rusty bolt cutter. But the clearly definite thing was the ultimate escape. He drove it into her missionary style, and though he was worried about hurting her, he could not stop himself from thrusting into her deeply. “You needn’t be worried,” she said quietly. Nothing, in short, portable or valuable was left.
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