He was staring at her, openly gaping. “I see no reason why you shouldn’t. "We're all damaged—we've all got broken pates," cried a dozen voices. He had not had time to aim the pistol. You were with your mother, the two of you huddled like thieves, laughing at the silly women who tried to shield themselves from rain by cowering under empty baskets and shawls. I can keep you. That night, she hunted the alleyways of the old town.
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