"The lash cuts to the bone. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. He listened. This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oosed. “We’re in for it. " "But I never can forget it, Winny. Depend upon it, there is a place for you—waiting.
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