I overheard them planning your assassination. See paragraph 1. ‘Beg pardon, miss, but I’m told as how—’ She broke off, her eyes widening, her jaw dropping open. She had to wear cream and a brown sash and a short frock and her hair down, and Gwen cream and a brown sash and a long skirt and her hair up. It is queer how ideas pop into one's head. Her sensitive ears could hear her foster mother snoring in front of the television. You’re all dependents—all of you.
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