Her sensitive ears could hear her foster mother snoring in front of the television. . The parlour was cluttered but cosy. Dim souls flitted about her, not only speaking but it would seem even thinking in undertones. She did not enter the cabin at once, but paused on the threshold and stared at the silent, recumbent figure in the bunk. ” “By God!” said Manning, making the most of the word, “I suppose it’s fate. And not a worthy tome in sight. She traced him by his scent. He raised her to a sitting position.
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