All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. But the morning brought courage again, and those first intimations of horror vanished completely from her mind. While he was thus occupied, he felt a rough grasp upon his arm, and presently afterwards Ben's lips approached close to his ear. Part of his head was swathed in linen bandages. Her foster father, Larry, was the hard working son-of-a-bitch type with a disdain for suits. You see, I’m selfish.
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