“He knows. I hated the stuff. ‘And you, my girl, if you’d been born at all, would have been just what you think you are. ” She pulled a small blue box out of the pocket of her hoodie. She got up, drew up her blind, and stared out of window at a dawn-cold vision of chimneys for a time, and then went and sat on the edge of her bed. The original passage, Martha had told her, had led only from an upstairs room to one downstairs.
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