‘Who me, sir? Lor’ no, sir. “I wish they did,” he said, “but they don’t. Lucy vomited onto the floor at the sight of her mother dying, the black spots expanding across her corpse. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. “Listen,” she said. Then she saw him. “Come to my rooms and have a drink. She followed the official back into his room.
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