You wish another name? Eh bien. There isn’t. Efforts were made to staunch his wounds and surgical assistance sent for. Already she had sent him twenty pounds, and never written to explain to him why it was she had not sent it back sharply directly he returned it. The Becks were the best foster family that she had ever had. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. “I am developing ailments,” she said, meeting his questioning eyes.
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