The unpleasant oily chill of fever overtook her body, and she watched in horror as Sebastian carried her to his bed on his shoulder like a sack of flour. Her mouth was worthy of her face; with small, pearly-white teeth; lips glossy, rosy, and pouting; and the sweetest smile imaginable, playing constantly about them. The Widgett method of thought puzzled her weakly rhetorical mind. You won't often see white folks. It tore her apart. He had buckled on his hanger, and had two brace of pistols in his belt, as well as others in this holsters.
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