"I have a token to deliver to you," continued the stranger, addressing her. "This letter will vouch for me that a communication has taken place between your enemies. ” Miss Pellissier tried ineffectually to conceal her relief. His red hair marked him, cut short into a round shape that had the texture of a Brillo pad. She could hardly remember his face except for his brown hair, thick lips, and narrow dark eyes. He fell back upon the pillows with a little moan, clutching the slim white fingers fiercely. Winds returned, the gardens withered, and roses would not bloom. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. “Take off your tunic. The light disappeared. I’ve—dreads.
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