“I have my methods. ” “Do you mean,” Courtlaw asked, “that from now to the end of the six months you do not wish to see us—any of us?” Her eyes were a little dim again. She seemed tense when not playing, he noted, more so than she had during the first two pieces. Her eyes were insane with rage, crusted with yellow and green, only beginning to heal from her long sojourn underground. Flattened flowers aren’t for the likes of us.
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