She found a clean sweatshirt and soft pajama pants, glad to trade the wet for the dry. “And you must please not look at me as though I were an executioner,” she declared lightly. You'd better lose no time. There was another little thing he had to say. Auntie has taken the nails out of my palms, but the scars will always be there. She liked the high, easy swing of the thing over its big wheels, the quick clatter-patter of the horse, the passage of the teeming streets.
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