More than this, it would serve to mitigate her own abysmal loneliness to pool it temporarily with his. She wanted to scream, but there was no one to scream for. You understand me, Charcoal. His clothes were smartly pressed, his linen white, his jaws cleanly shaven; but the day would come when he would grow indifferent to bodily cleanliness. “I will go,” he said.
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