'—'They can't,' says I. She thought of Sebastian who often returned from the charnel house that the outside world had become. A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. She looked at the white ankle socks on her feet and was reminded simultaneously of her pajama outfit and the suitcase that still lay underneath the bed. " "Is the poor lady alive?" asked Mrs. He seized a tray, squatted on the floor, and imitated the tom-tom.
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